


In Turn

by IsraelHandsDown



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Drifteris, Eventual Romance, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Moonrat, Psychological Trauma, Romantic Friendship, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:14:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 108,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27442513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsraelHandsDown/pseuds/IsraelHandsDown
Summary: Eris Morn and The Drifter play a game of cards.Now Multi-Chaptered.
Relationships: The Drifter/Eris Morn
Comments: 179
Kudos: 179





	1. Go Fish

“Got any fives?”

Eris Morn pulled a five of hearts from the cards in her hand, sending it the Drifter’s way with a flick of her wrist. He caught it midair with a deft snap of his fingers, before pulling his own five to join it; tossing them into the discard pile.They sat at the table in the living area of the Derelict, cards dealt out between them in a game of Go Fish. A childish game, true, but still an entertaining way to pass the time.

Her turn, “Any knaves?”

He blinked, fixing her with a bewildered expression, “The hell’s that?”

She couldn’t really roll her eyes anymore, but she could tighten her lips to express her annoyance.

“Jacks, you simpleton.”

He stared at her like she had something growing out the side of her head.

“Then why didn’ya just say _Jacks_?!”

His dander was up.

“How was I to know you lack the knowledge of proper terminology in cards.”

She watched his jaw twitch, and his eyes threw daggers at her.

“What difference does it make?! I know howda play and that’s all that freakin’ matters!”  
  
Eris pressed her lips together to keep a smirk from forming. She had come to learn quite early in their partnership that the Drifter could get very...indignant if he felt his intelligence was being brought into question. He’d deny it, but it was clearly a very touchy subject for him. He was embarrassed. Especially when she used words longer than three syllables around him.

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t take a small amount of enjoyment from it.

“Do you have them or not?” She kept her voice calm, which seemed to ruffle him up further.

His lips tight in anger, he growled out, “Go fish!”  
  
Eris drew from the stock pile, adding a two of spades to her collection before watching the Drifter pointlessly shuffle the cards in his hand. His soreness was radiating from across the table.

“There’s no need to get mad, Rat.” She assured him.

“Mad? Who’s mad?” He snapped, “Aces?”

Eris pulled from her deal and tossed it to him.

“ _You_ are clearly mad. There’s no shame in admitting you don’t know something. Any threes?”

He tossed a card at her, a little harder than needed, “Ya know, Moondust, it’s bad manners to come into someone’s home and insult them. Fours?”

“Go Fish. I meant no insult, I simply stated a fact.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?!” He drew from the stock and placed a new pair in the discard pile.

“Trying to start a fight, are we? Queens?”

“Go Fish. So what if I am, Three-Eyes? Ya seem to be itchin’ for one too.”

She drew a six which made a pair and she tossed them out with the other discards.

“I can’t help that you’re easy to provoke. Call me sadistic, but I find your indignation most entertaining.”

He stared at her, a pause of silence falling between them, and Eris could see the light of something fiendish begin to form in his eyes. His lips slowly spreading into a grin. She froze, bracing herself for the counter attack.

“Well, when you’re starved for attention...” he shrugged.

That had her sitting a little taller. She could ignore him, not take the bait he was clearly laying out for her, and just continue their card game. Or, she could play along and let him back himself into a corner again. She favored the latter.

“Explain.” She leaned forward, a subliminal invitation for him; she was an open target.

His grin grew, “Being cast out by the folks who called themselves yo’ friends?” He clucked his tongue, “Lonely life when no one wants ya around. Gotta find a way to get some interaction, trust?”

Eris narrowed her eyes. It was a cheap blow, and in all seriousness, a weak one. She didn’t even have to try with her rebuttal.

“What was it you said to me before, Rat...pot, kettle, black?”

The Drifter chuckled, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table.

“No one threw me out, sistah.” He ran a hand along his beard, scratching beneath his chin for a moment, “I’m the one who left.”

Cocky.

But Eris knew it was all bravado. He had to be the most hated man in the known universe, and though he wouldn’t say it out loud, she knew the real reason for his _leaving—_ everyone was trying to kill him. Eris was disappointed. The Drifter was making this too easy.

“Is that what you called it? I would’ve used the term _running away_.”

His grin faltered, “I go where I want, when I want.” There wasn’t as much hubris in his voice as before. She could start to move in for the killing strikes.

“With pitchforks and torches at your heels.”

“I answer to no one.”

“Just your own culpability.”

A second’s pause.  
  
“I don’t even know what that is and ya know that!”

Here it comes, one of his trademark tantrums.

“What happened to your dictionary?”

“I laid out a spider with it.”

“Some spider it must have been.”  
  
“Gi-nor-mous.”

Eris couldn’t hold back her own smirk, the lightest scoff passing her nose, and ohhhh....did that push him over the edge.

“Ya like to flaunt how posh ya are, Moondust? How cultured and privileged ya were once?”

_The hell?_

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry that English ain’t my first language!” he was practically hissing at her, “I don’t know what yo’ sayin’ most of the time! So shoot me!”

The smirk fell from her face, and was replaced by a derisive expression, “Don’t you dare project your insecurities and lack of self-esteem onto me, Rat.”  
  
“Oh!” he raised his brows and his voice took on a condescending tone, “Like how ya fling your paranoia and cynicism at me? Yeah...I know what _cynicism_ is. Don’t need a goddamn book for that!”

Eris paused, unsure how to respond. Anger and offense were rising in her, and she clenched her fist around the cards she still held. How dare he...how _dare_ he!

“You have no right to talk to me about cynicism!”

“Don’t I?” He practically sung the question, arrogance returning to his eyes.

He didn’t know what the hell he was talking about....he had no _idea_ the trauma she had endured! Leaving her the shell of the woman she was! What she had seen, what she knew now...she had every right to be cynical. And what of him? Coward that he was! Running away from everything, from everyone! In fact...yeah...yeah, he had wrecked the lives of everyone he had ever met. He was the common denominator!

“You know something, Rat?” She lowered her voice, making sure he could feel just how serious she was, “At least I never demolished any of the relationships I shared with the people I loved.”

He blinked, confusion written all over him. Now on his guard, he sat back just a fraction in his seat, but Eris caught it instantly.

“The hell ya talkin’ ‘bout?”

She took a deep breath, ready to deliver the fatal blow, and then— “Orin.”

The silence was deafening.

As soon as the name passed her lips, it was like everything just...stopped. Life itself froze in time, and the color drained from the Drifter’s face. No more pomposity.

“Wha—” His voice came out weak and confused, but she cut him off before he could finish.

“You two were partners, yes? Orin The Sunbreaker...one of the greatest Titans who ever lived...what on Earth was that amazing woman thinking having you in her fireteam?”  
  
He stared at her, unblinking. The pallidness of his skin growing with every word she spoke. He looked like the proverbial deer in headlights, and Eris went on.

“I won’t pretend to know the details of your relationship, because I don’t.”  
  
“No...ya _don’t_...” He sounded so small, and for a moment, Eris felt a cringing in her chest. She waited a moment to see what he would say, but he remained silent. So, Eris continued.

“But _you_ left. You left everyone behind. Including her. What a man you are.”

She almost fell short when she saw the slight tremble in his shoulders. Even from across the table, she could see it, and the most unnerving part of all, was that during her rant...he had yet to blink. She ignored it. Something had taken a hold of her, something that wanted to see the Drifter put in his place, and though she knew deep down that now was the time to walk away and be the better person...she spoke once more.

“Now you’re wracked with guilt. Chasing her across the universe like a puppy running after it’s owner. That’s why the Nine have you wrapped around their fingers. Pathetic would be the right word, I think. Yes?"

His breathing was becoming heavier, she could see the rage inside of him; that fire gifted to him from the Traveler was burning wild. He would attack with a vengeance, she could sense the malevolence, and braced herself for whatever he was about to throw. A second passed, then another, and another, until—the fight went completely out of him, and Eris watched in disbelief as his entire body deflated before her.

Slouched in his chair, his gaze was fixed on the table; eyes far away. He wasn’t with her anymore. No, he had fallen into a memory. She could see it.

Silence. Tension heavy in the air, and Eris began to worry she had finally overstepped her bounds with him. She never thought it was possible. The man was belligerent and quite frankly, didn’t seem to possess a proverbial censor button. She had spoken harshly to him in the past, had called him names, and even insulted his honor many a time, but he always shrugged it off. In fact, he could dispense the brutalities with as much panache as she.

That was the key to their...relationship. Was that the right word? Maybe comradery? Yes, perhaps that was the better word. They bantered, they butted heads, they constantly tried to out-snide and outwit the other. Truth be told, Eris secretly enjoyed the interactions. Even when they became heated like this very moment. At least he could provide her with the human contact that was scarce in her life. He had been right about that.

But now...now she may have found his achilleas heel, and she felt the tinge of guilt growing inside her. She hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings. Sometimes, she forgot he had them, and as soon as that thought struck her, she hated herself for thinking it. What a cold hearted bitch she was.

She needed to apologize. Needed to fix this. But as she parted her lips to speak, he overtook her.

“South of where the Last City stands...there is a hill of tall grass.”

No more anger, no more arrogance. His voice was low and softer than she had ever heard before. It made her heart skip a beat.

“And at the top of this hill, there is a tree,” he continued, “An oak tree. Tall with branches that reach out like long arms, trying to hold onto the world around it.”

She had never heard him speak like this, no slang, no rough edges...no. No, this wasn’t The Drifter speaking to her, this was someone she had never known.

_A man named Eli._

She was fixed to the spot, ready to hang upon every word he was about to speak.

“And once, long ago, a woman stood beneath that tree. A woman with tiger eyes and skin made of stardust. She wore no armor,” he chuckled lightly, “instead, she had taken the remnants of Fallen banners and wrapped them around herself. A makeshift gown of reds and orange.”

She watched as his fingers fidgeted with the cards in his hand, as his eyes remained on the table.

“She had flowers woven through her hair. Edelweiss, that looked like tiny stars...and my God..." He paused, a shudder in his breath. Then he whispered, “She was _so_ beautiful.”

Eris felt the impact of those words, and she noticed the cards she held began to tremble ever so slightly. She waited for him to continue, she wanted to hear this.

“On that hill...” He swallowed, “Under that tree, I told her...”

Eris could feel her heart quicken. She wanted to know, she _needed_ to know...what had he said to Orin?

Another shuddering breath, and in the softest whisper she had ever heard spoken, he said, “I told her that I was hers. That I would live only for her.”

Pausing once more, his eyes finally shifted to meet Eris’ own, and she stifled the gasp her body reactively formed in her throat. His eyes...they were different. He looked so different in that moment, not that cock-sure vagabond she had come to know, but a man who was...old. So very old. So very tired.

A man with a broken heart.

His hand trembled harder.

“And she promised she would always take care of me. That she would die for me. That she loved me.”

Eris didn’t blink, didn’t breathe. The Drifter’s eyes bore into her own, and she could feel the sincerity and truth of what he was saying with every part of her being. This secret of his, he was trusting her with it, and her heart ached when she realized what he was truly saying. 

His gaze never wavered, “I made a promise to her. I made a vow. That I would always love her...even at the end of all things." He took a deep breath, and then, “It’s the only promise I ever kept. I’m a liar. I’m a cheat. I’m a bad person. I know all this, I don’t deny it.”

Eris felt her heart begin to ache

“But I told the truth when I made that vow. I never broke that promise to her...even when she forgot all about me, about our time together...even when she found someone else. I never took back my words.”

Slowly, he laid his cards upon the table, resting his hand beside them.

“I never will.”

And with that, he finished his story. His eyes drifted away from her and into the shadows of the dimly lit room. Fixed on nothing in the present, but gazing into the past in his mind’s eye. Eris slowly released the breath she had unwittingly held, before placing her own cards down. Hands folded before her on the table, she looked away from The Drifter and fell into her own thoughts. She hadn’t given him enough credit, and she was disappointed in herself. She of all people had no room to be drawing conclusions about someone based on their demeanor. Demeanor and nature were two very different things. But this truth he had told her...this secret he and Orin had kept hidden for so long...

_They were so much more than what I thought...so much more. I misjudged the situation._

She felt a lump forming in her throat. It was heartbreaking. How awful it must be, to love someone with such completion that they become a part of you—only to watch them fade away. It must be like watching yourself die.

And yet...there was another thought. Another truth she felt growing inside her...

“I envy you.” She mumbled.

She looked up, and saw The Drifter watching her with a furrowed brow.  
  
“Come again?” His voice was returning to that gruff timbre he seemed to favor.

“I said, I envy you.” She locked his gaze with her own, wanting to be sure he heard and understood what she was about to say.

“There’s an old saying— _It’s better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all._ ” She lightly scoffed, “I always thought the notion was absolutely ridiculous. Losing someone you love is devastating. It breaks you down, tears you apart.”

Eris shook her head, “Why subject yourself to such torture? It’s better to never love at all.”

He watched her intently, and she could see the curiosity growing in him. Trying to decipher where she was going with this. She swallowed down the lump before continuing,

“I’ve lost every person I’ve ever loved.” She could not hide the heaviness in her voice, “It destroyed me.”

She needed a moment. He didn’t say a word, just waited for her to continue, and she appreciated his courtesy.

“However, I’ve never loved the way you have.”

She took another moment to choose her words carefully. She had never struggled with language before, in fact, she waxed poetic quite often. But this was something for _him,_ something important he had to understand. She had to make up for all the hurtful things she just said.

“Whenever you speak of Orin, there’s such joy and sadness in your voice. It’s bittersweet. You truly loved her with a passion that transcended the notions of romantic idealism we layman glorify.”

She inwardly flinched at herself, that came out a little too baroque. Still, she went on:

“The two of you...you had something celestial, didn’t you?”

He didn’t answer, but Eris could see the emotion building behind his eyes. She had struck another chord, and truthfully, she was fighting off her own pain as well, but what she had to say next was important. He needed to hear it, she needed to say it.  
  
“Orin is gone. She’s never coming back here.”

The words were spoken, and she watched the Drifter. Studied every inch of him, looking for the pain and the discomfort she knew this would cause him. She didn’t want to hurt him again, that wasn’t her intention, but this was something she believed he needed to hear. The same words she had needed to hear about her fireteam. They were gone, and there was nothing she could do to change that.

It had taken time. A long time, but Eris had stopped rejecting the reality. Her friends were gone....her Ghost was gone. It was over. She steeled herself. Stiffening her lip.

“You had your time together,” her voice came out low and shaking, and she flushed slightly at the sound.

_Dammit!_

She had slipped, and she took a deep breath to quell the piteous nature inside her.

"You have your memories. What a glorious feeling it must be to know that someone loved you absolutely...that someone thought you were the Earth and sky.”

The Drifter’s eyes softened, his lip twitching, and Eris could maintain it no more, she had to look away. Down to her hands again, and she flexed her fingers repeatedly. A physical distraction, something to focus on as a means to ground herself in the moment. An old trick she had adopted to stay in reality.

“You are a very lucky person,” she whispered, “Not many ever know that form of love.”

There. She was finished. Silence.

_1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 – 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 –_

Eris flexed each finger, counting them individually.

_Focus. Focus. Focus. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6—_

She stopped when the Drifter’s hand slid into her line of vision, taking one of her own in his. Her whole body instantly tensed, no longer accustomed to physical contact, and her first instinct was to pull away, put distance between them. However, she had been working hard to learn to trust again, and there was no sign of a threat in the Drifter’s actions.

She tried to relax. Watching him intently as he began to undo her glove. She froze, watching as he gently slid it off her hand to drop onto the table, her bare skin in the open air sent a chill through her, and she felt her heart quicken. There was a small smirk on his lips, and she could see a bit of mischief playing in his eyes. Suspicion began to grow in her, paranoia taking over....what did he want? Why did he take her glove off?

_Calm down._

She could beat the hell out of him if he did anything strange.

Turning her hand over, the Drifter began to drag his finger along her palm with a contemplative expression. Drawing slow, methodical lines and curves across her skin, she couldn’t fight the shivers that ran down her spine at his touch, and she was embarrassed by it. She maintained a stoic face and watched him.

“Hmm...” he hummed, “You’re ruled by Saturn.”

She cocked a brow...was he reading her palm?

“You’re strong willed, with a penchant for misconduct,” he went on, “But you’re good at self-governin’.”

His smirk grew, and she narrowed her eyes at the sight. Knowing a joke might be coming at her expense.

“Ya live a life of honor, but aren’t above skipping out on a dinner tab, and though ya can be a model of self-control, ya can be a glutton for pizza rolls and sitcoms with mono-titles.”  
  
There it was.

“Ya also tend to hang the toilet paper roll with the drape on the inside.”

She glared and tried to rip her hand from his grasp, but he held tight and laughed.

“Nah! Hold-on, hold-on, hold-on!”

“I’m not playing your juvenile games.” She put on her most authoritative voice.

“Wait! Hold on,” there was a playful sing-song in his tone, “I’m not done yet, just calm down!”

He continued to laugh, and though she hated being the butt of his bad jokes, his smile and playful demeanor were contagious enough that she sat still despite her annoyance. Releasing a sigh as she allowed him to continue. He cleared his throat, carefully studying her palm once more.

“You’re a do-gooder who has a strong sense of loyalty and justice, and though you’re very logical, you’re also highly artistic.”

Eris took a deep breath, her patience was wearing thin, and she was on edge with the suspicion that he was going to try and embarrass her somehow. He paused, dragging his finger along the base of her fingers, before following it down to her wrist and around towards her thumb. Another shiver passed through her, and she watched his expression slowly shift into something more gentle.

She’d never seen that look on him before...

“Your life is marked by tragedies, but your presence of mind is very clear. You’re strong.”

Taken aback by this statement, she fought to remain still. To keep a straight face.

“You’re blessed with both intelligence and beauty.”

She fought off a blush at that one. Even before her...physical change...beauty wasn’t something she’d ever been cited for.

“You love deeply, and are devoted to those you call friends.”

His voice had changed once more. The terse manner gone, replaced by something tame. Something compassionate, and Eris felt her heart quicken again.

“You’re also loved in return.”

The Drifter met her eyes, and her heart stopped. One second, two seconds, before it beat once more.

_Why does he do this?_

She wanted to punch that smirk right off his face, and yet, she could feel a part of her that hadn’t made itself known in a very long time. That part of her soul where tears came from. It was no use though. She’d been bled dry a long time ago, and had nothing left to give. But still...she could feel the suggestion of it in the back of her eyes. All three of them. The Drifter held her gaze, and she watched as the softest smile played at his lips. Something knowing, as though he had another secret to share. Of course he did, the man most likely had a plethora of them, and she was surprised to find she wanted to know them all.

It was then Eris realized he still held her hand, and during these several seconds of silent contemplation, they both had inadvertently been dragging their fingers along the other’s. Her mind fell blank, confused and stunned at her own conduct. Since when had she become so comfortable with another’s touch? Especially _his_? It was embarrassing to be caught off guard, to be vulnerable. Still, the lightness of the touch, the gentleness of it was soothing. She was hesitant to break the contact. Touch was something many humans took for granted, and she had been starved for it. Maybe just a little longer...

_Okay, that was long enough._

Eris casually pulled her hand back, feeling a slight dissatisfaction at the loss of his warmth before she reached for her glove. The Drifter leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head.

“Okay, Moondust, ya want two tamales or three? Because they should be done by now.”

The scrape of the chair as he pushed it back from the table was cringe inducing, and he stood, stretching his back with a satisfying crack before making his way towards the kitchen area.

“Three.” Eris pulled her glove back on.

“Hell, if you’s really hungry, take five!” He called back, “I made a shit-ton of ‘em!”

She shook her head, and felt everything returning to its normal state. The atmosphere filling with that lackadaisical air that always hung aboard the Derelict. A reflection of its Captain. No. That wasn’t right. The ship was merely another façade.

The tiniest chuckle escaped her, and she called out: “Then bring me eight of them!”


	2. Blind Man's Bluff

“I see your Cabal, and I raise ya two Vex.”

The Drifter tossed two jade coins, representing the race in question onto the ever growing pile between them.

When they had sat down for their weekly game, he had produced a box full of those little trinkets he used for that Rat-Race of his, and Eris had helped him separate them into piles based on enemy representation. A cheap way to substitute currency in a friendly game of cards, and Eris had to admit, they were beautiful; an admirable tribute to the artistry of the Orient. The Drifter was clearly proud of his ancestry, and she silently admired that about him.

She sat with elbows resting on the table, holding a playing card out in front of her; showing The Drifter her hand. The game of the week was Blind Man’s Bluff, a reverse version of poker where the opponent was privy to the card but the player was not. One card dealt, held out at the forehead. This was a guessing game using psychology, and Eris could appreciate that aspect of it. Watching the opponents eyes, their expressions, their body language...trying to guess at her own card. Was it higher or lower?  
  
The Drifter held a six of clubs at his forehead, so at this point, it could go either way for her. He looked her dead in the eyes, his trademark smirk on his face and elbows resting on the table. So casual, so smug. Speculation of what she held wasn’t concluding anything. Nevertheless, she wouldn’t back down.  
  
“I’m in. I will raise you a Scorn.” She tossed the correct coin onto the pile.  
  
“Oooo!” His eyes brightened, “Now it’s getting’ interestin’...”

He rubbed his chin, studying her more intensely, and she hardened her expression; trying not to reveal anything. Despite the element of luck and guess work, there was strategy in reading the other person. Looking for signs that could give the player a better sense of how to ante.

The Drifter held her gaze, smirk still on his lips and a gleam in his eye. He was looking for cracks in her façade, but Eris wouldn’t make this easy for him. She was a queen of detached expressions, and Drifter was about to get a dose of it. She didn’t blink. Even when he widened his eyes and pouted his lip.  
  
_Oh no. No. He was not getting an inch.  
  
_She knew what he was doing...he was beginning a game of psych-out. His expression shifted, cocking a brow and biting his lip. Drumming his fingers on the table and she could feel the vibration of his knee bouncing beneath the table. Ah-ha! Now he was trying to feed her misinformation. Body language breaking the rules of stoicism in order to upset her calculations.  
  
_That bastard.  
  
_She almost sneered, which would have upset her mission to not cave to his stratagem. Instead, she reached to her side and grabbed a few potato chips from a bag he had given her to snack on; popping them into her mouth to keep it busy. Beer and chips had been on the menu.  
  
Speaking of—without missing a beat, she watched as The Drifter brought the beer he had been nursing to his lips and downed the rest, eyes never breaking contact with her own. He was mimicking her. Copying her attempts to not give anything away in her expressions and gestures. She wouldn’t react. No. She kept chewing, he kept drinking, until she swallowed and he sat the now empty can onto the table with a satisfied _clank!_ A belch escaping him as he grinned.  
  
She almost sneered at that too. Eris had to admit, it was hard not reacting to him; the man was horrendously obnoxious and crude.

“I’ll match your Scorn.” He finally announced and flipped a coin into the pile with a flick of his thumb.  
  
_Interesting..._

His grin was all teeth, and he rhythmically tapped his card against his forehead.

Eris wasn’t sure how to proceed. Her card could be higher...it really could. His six straddled the center, and the odds could bend in either’s favor. Yet...she had a feeling she had the advantage. Should she call?  
  
_No. Not yet.  
  
_She watched him carefully, hoping he’d give something away before she made her decision. He belched again and wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve. Another tactic.

“You’re not going to psych me out, Rat.” She informed him.  
  
“Pardon the hell outta me, Three-Eyes, but I don’t need to resort to such raw tactics.”  
  
“You’re so basic it’s sad.”  
  
He fixed her with an offended expression, “Basic? Ya callin’ me a Basic Bitch?”  
  
“I’m calling you sloppy in your tactics. You’re not going to break me.”  
  
“Sloppy?!” He gasped, eyes wide with offense, “Sloppy?! Well, I _never_!”  
  
His expression was one of mock outrage as he fumbled in the pocket of his coat, and Eris watched him produce a cigarette. It was hand-rolled—homemade, and as he raised it to his face, he surprised her by popping it into one of his nostrils instead. Snapping his fingers to light it with his own fire. He took a deep inhale through his nose, practically snorting the stick before removing it, and Eris gaped as he widened his eyes and dropped his jaw, tongue extended as a massive ball of smoke rolled from his mouth. That was enough to break her control. She sneered and slammed her card onto the table.  
  
“Ugh! Is it possible for you to be even more uncivilized?!”  
  
He burst into hysterics, coughing around another puff of smoke. Pulling his knees up, as he doubled over in mirth at her indignation. He brought the cigarette to his lips this time, taking a drag around his laughter which shifted into giggling. The look on her face must have been priceless, for he fell back into a belly-laugh when his eyes met hers once more. She could only shake her head, and wait for him to pull himself together. She was so glad he found her so amusing. She lived to entertain it seemed.  
  
“I swear, Rat,” She shook her head, “How the hell did Orin stand you?”  
  
As soon as the words left her, she wanted to kick herself. The statement had been thoughtless...tactless, and she worried that the casual air of their game was about to be usurped by one of anxiety and bleakness. Orin was a sensitive subject for him. Borderline taboo. Eris had made a mental note to avoid it, especially after the last incident. But now, she had ruined the night again.  
  
She wracked her brain for an escape, a way to get back into the game, but she was stunned when The Drifter laughed harder and cleared his throat.  
  
“Are ya kiddin’ me?!” He stumped the cigarette out on the table, “Orin was crazy!”

Eris paused, processing what he was saying.  
  
“In fact,” He blew out the last bit of smoke, “She taught me some tricks!” His grin was wide and strangely charming.

Eris blinked, certainly not expecting to hear this about Orin. It wasn’t something she expected.  
  
“Orin? Orin The Sunbreaker?” She tried for clarification.  
  
“Ah! But ya see, darlin’” He pointed a stern finger at her, “That’s the problem—ya’ll knew Orin The Sunbreaker...the Lady version of Saint-14. Ya didn’t know Orin The Woman.”  
  
Touche. His point was valid. Yet still, Eris couldn’t envision the Titan being anything but impeccable. When Eris had first met her, Orin had been the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Carrying herself with such grace and majesty, it was like standing in the presence of a warrior goddess hailed from Olympus. Eris had admired her, and secretly, looked to her as an inspiration. Orin The Sunbreaker of the Pilgrim Guard. A great heroine of the Dark Ages. Loved by all, and yet, she had to remind herself—this raggedy-man of no great merit....  
  
She watched him, watched as the humor faded, taking on a more serious expression.  
  
“Ya’ll didn’t know her the way I knew her. That little girl was a firecracker.”  
  
When he spoke those words, there was such awe in his voice, and she could see the warmth in his eyes. Picturing, remembering, reliving the past. He was right. Eris didn’t know Orin behind closed doors. But The Drifter did. He knew her intimately in every sense, and it was clearly written on every inch of him just how honored he was to have been a part of her.  
  
_How lucky she must have been._  
  
Eris was surprised at her own thoughts, and she shook herself. Trying to refocus and reset.  
  
“Now, ya gonna bet or call, sistah?” The Drifter pulled her back into the game.

She raised the card again, and thought for a moment. A feeling in her gut, the card was higher than his. She’d place a bet.  
  
“I’ll raise you a Hive.”  
  
“Woah, hold up, hun!” The Drifter held an unamused look on his face, “Since when does a single Hive hold more merit than a Scorn?”  
  
“The Hive have strength in numbers it’s true, but the damage a single one can inflict can be devastating.”  
  
“Yeah?” there was irony in his voice, “So can my dirty laundry—that don’t mean jack.”  
  
She narrowed her eyes, “Are you going to argue with _me_ about the capabilities of the Hive, Rat?”  
  
A second passed, then another. Their eyes locked in a silent battle, only broken when The Drifter released a groan of pure exasperation and allowed his arms to slide out to the side, bringing him down to smack his forehead on the table. He paused face down on the wood while Eris looked on in annoyance at his mockery. She said nothing. Waiting for him to cease the dramatics.  
  
He looked up at her with a furrowed brow and a smirk on his lips, “Oh no...ya gonna do the thing, Moondust?”  
  
_Thing?_

“What on Earth are you talking about?”  
  
“Ya know,” He sat up and leaned back in his chair, “The _thing.”  
  
_Her patience was wearing thin, “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”  
  
“The _Thing_! Where ya gotta go outta your way to prove you’re right!”

He was being ridiculous. She never indulged in such immaturity.  
  
“I really don’t know where you’re getting your opinions from—”  
  
“Come on!” He growled, rolling his eyes, “Ya’ve always been like that! I mean, that’s how we first met, for cryin’ outloud!”  
  
She froze, her mind emptying itself of all practical thought. When they first met? What did he mean by that?  
  
“Explain.” Her voice was commanding.  
  
He didn’t answer immediately, instead, he studied her carefully before folding his arms across his chest. Another moment passed, and his expression lost its humor, turning more curious than anything.  
  
“You—ya really don’t remember how we met?” He cocked a brow.  
  
She thought for a moment, “I really don’t.”  
  
It was true, in fact, now that she thought about it...she couldn’t remember how she had met The Drifter at all. When did they meet? How? Honestly, it felt as though he had always been there. Always in the background; an extra in a production.  
  
No, she couldn’t remember.  
  
“At the beginnin’ of the City Age,” His voice was smoother as he began his story, “before the walls had been completed, before I had left this shit-hole of a planet behind, I was in the Pilgrim Guard.”  
  
Eris gave him her undivided attention, wanting to know what he remembered and her heart began to race at the excitement of having a memory possibly restored. If what he was about to tell her was true, then she felt that maybe...just maybe...

“Orin and me, we had friends in the Safe City, friends we would visit when we came for supplies.”  
  
She remembered the Safe City...before it was The Last City. Huts and shacks with makeshift shops. Roads of dust and mud, and the beginnings of a great wall that promised to keep them safe.

“One day, we met up with ‘em in a bar—well, it was more like a collection of tables outside a tent—but still, a bar.”  
  
She could picture it, she remembered many places like that.  
  
“We was drinkin’, playin’ cards, havin’ some laughs,” He paused and deepened his stare, “And Eriana was there.”  
  
Her heart leapt in her chest. Eriana-3. Her dear friend...her comrade... The Drifter had known Eriana? Wait...wait...she thought maybe...yes...  
  
Her breathing increased.  
  
“We were talkin’ ‘bout the music playin’ and everyone started arguin’ over personal choices. Eriana could sing, remember?”  
  
She did remember.

“So, we teased her to sing for us, and she began this old song.” He paused, his eyes growing fond with the memory, “That’s when you walked by.”  
  
Her heart was hammering now.

He chuckled, “Ya rounded on her—a total stranger—and told her that she was singin’ it wrong!”

A warm spring day...she had been buying vegetables...and she heard singing. The song though...it had been wrong.

“....did I?”  
  
“Yeah! Ya did!” He confirmed, “You told her she was ‘ _greatly mistaken’_ , that she had the lyrics wrong and the tune was off.”

She did remember...Eriana’s piercing stare. Completely unamused while everyone else stared in disbelief.

“Eriana, well...” He scoffed, “She tried to school _you,_ sayin’ that she was _‘very familiar with the song’_. It was the best track on its ‘ _respective album.’_ ”

His smile had grown amused by the memory. “You came flyin’ back with a _‘No! Absolutely not! It most certainly was not the best track!’_ ”  
  
Yes...she had moved closer to them. Off the street to stand under the canopy. Eriana looking up at her with mild annoyance. Befuddled laughter coming from the others.

The Drifter laughed, “Girl! You was rambilin’ on about which one’s were better! And we were all just like— _Who the hell is this girl_?!”

“...I do remember that...”  
  
“Yeah! Eriana started arguin’ with ya, but you just kept talkin’ louder. And then—” He chuckled, he couldn’t help himself, “To prove your point—you started singin’ the song the correct way!”

His chuckles turned to true laughter, and Eris felt herself flush. Embarrassed at the memory. What a child she had been!  
  
“And Moondust...” He calmed his delight, “Ya had the most beautiful voice.”  
  
Heat rose to her cheeks, and she prayed that her skin wasn’t reflecting the blush inside. She remembered....she remembered all of it. That’s how she met Eriana-3, it’s how she met Orin—but...The Drifter had been there?  
  
“I remember.” She admitted, “Eriana and Orin...Jashen was there too, yes? So was Wei Ning.”

“Yeah!” He confirmed, “Man! You was a little fireball, ya psycho! Orin couldn’t stop laughin’. She instantly liked ya. So did I.”  
  
She could see it so clearly. Orin looking up at her with a glowing smile, scooting over and telling her to have a seat beside her. She saw Orin....but The Drifter...  
  
“You were there?” Her brow was furrowed. Try as she might, she couldn’t picture him. But he _had_ to have been there. How else would he know all this?  
  
He held her gaze with a gentle smile, drumming his fingers on his arm as he leaned forward, just the slightest bit, “I was, darlin’. I was sittin’ right there—next to Orin. I poured ya a drink.”

A second passed. Then another. Then—

 _Oh..that’s right!_  
  
She saw it! She remembered! A man sat beside Orin, his arm draped over the back of her chair. A man with long hair swept to the side and a short beard accenting Asian features. He practically lounged in his seat, cocksure in his posturing.

However, he didn’t look like The Drifter! How could that be?

_No, wait..._

She studied her memory, her mind’s eye analyzing every detail and realized— It _was_ him!

The eyes, the smile, he had long hair then, no scars, and he had looked...younger. That wasn’t all, she was abashed to remember that when he had smiled at her and offered her a drink, she had thought he was very handsome. Her gaze had even lingered a little longer upon him.  
  
“I had long hair then.” His voice cut in on her recollection.  
  
“Yes,” she nodded, “I remember...you were wearing a brown shirt and a field coat. Army-issued green.” Her voice sounded far away to her own ears.  
  
“Wow, good memory.” He chuckled, and she watched his expression fade into something almost melancholy. A reaction to her own confused stare. He must have sensed her thoughts, because he sighed:  
  
“Amazin’ what too much time in the dark and cold can do to ya, huh Moondust?”  
  
There was a mournfulness about him, and she felt guilt growing inside her. The Drifter was too perceptive for his own good, she hadn’t been tactful enough to hide the surprise and confusion at his appearance. He looked worn now, aged and beaten down. That’s not what she saw that day sitting next to Orin. It was a somber realization. But she knew what it was like to be changed...she could barely look at herself.  
  
Those years, down in that pit. Oh...how it had changed her! No, change was too small a word—

It had destroyed her. Eris Morn was dead. Wiped from existence at the hands of sadistic monsters, and she was never coming back.

That day though, the day he had conjured in her memory. When she had met her future best friend, her idol, and the man who would one day become The Drifter...it brought something back. A truth she had sealed away. Now, she thought that maybe, just maybe...she had the courage to speak it out loud.

So, she took a deep breath.  
  
“I hated that song.” She mumbled.  
  
A pause, his head tilting in confusion at her words, “Huh?”  
  
“I said, I hated that song. The one Eriana was singing at the table. I hated it so much.”  
  
He stared. Not questioning, just waiting for her to continue. She appreciated it, for her mind was a whirlwind of memories, and her heart was flooding with emotions. There was something she had kept hidden for so long. She wanted to pry it out, to rip herself open and dispose of it.

This was the moment. No turning back.  
  
“May I tell you something, please?” Her voice was so tiny in its request.  
  
He blinked, “Of course, darlin’.”

His response struck a chord in her. Not so much the words, but the intonation.

_Why did he have to speak with such tenderness?_

Yet, isn’t that why she wanted to speak to him in the first place? The reason she was to share a secret with him? Something she had never told anyone, not even Ikora. But she wanted him to know. This man made of fire, she wanted to tell him everything.

"During that time,” She shuddered, swallowing the lump forming in her throat. “In the Pit...”  
  
She quickly moved her hands to her lap, the card shaking between her fingers.  
  
“I sang that song to keep myself sane.”

His face was impassive, watching her carefully, and she found herself looking away. Down to her hands. Twitching her fingers, trying to count them— _1, 2, 3, 4, 5_ — grounding herself. Keeping a grasp on what was real. The chair she was sitting in, the card in her hand, the man across from her— those were all real.

“When I was in the dark...when they were—” her breath hitched. Memories dredging to the surface, of pain, of torture, of humiliation, she didn’t want to say it out loud. She couldn’t say it out loud!  
  
_Breathe, Breathe. 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10—_

She was breathing hard now, her entire body trembling. She had to finish this though, it was a closure. A finale. She needed this!

“To stave off the madness...to comfort myself....I sang that horrible song. The one Eriana loved.”

Memories of bloody lips mumbling the words, and a broken voice trying to squeak out the tune as she lay in total darkness. Trying so hard...so hard to drown out the sounds around her. The screams—  
  
_Oh God...oh no..._  
  
_1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10 – 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10_

“And when I went searching for the exit,” her voice cracked and she steadied herself, “When I climbed out of the pit...I sang it the entire way.”

That journey through the dark with an orb clutched tightly to her chest. Completely naked and covered in dust...moondust, and dried blood. Her bare feet being cut upon the sharp rocks, her body shivering in the cold. Singing under her breath, everything around her pulsating with death and decay, whispering a promise that she could never leave. Even if her body made it home, back to the City, she herself would never leave that pit.  
  
The voices had been right.

And as she finished, Eris felt strangely ashamed, but also relieved, “I’ve never told that to anyone.”

Silence. Her gaze remained on her hands, counting fingers and finding distraction in the simplest details. The texture of her gloves, the woven thread of her clothes. She was afraid to look up, worried at what his eyes might hold.

Long ago, when she had returned from the Hellmouth, she had tried to resume a normal life. Well, as normal as could be expected. But, it never failed. She would catch sight of others watching her. Wherever she went and whatever she did, eyes followed her, and always with pity and fear in them. She hated it! Hated them all for it! Even Ikora and Zavala! Her secret shame to hold that against them.

If she looked up now, is that what she would see from The Drifter too? What right did he have to pity her! Former Dredgen!

 _That isn’t the principal. That isn’t what I am trying to say.  
  
_Then what was she trying to say?

“I don’t sing anymore.” One last whispered confession.

Ah, that was it.

Then she lifted her eyes.

He sat stock-still, arms still folded across his chest in the most causal of postures. No worries, no cares. Oh, but his eyes! The look in his eyes! That was something she had never before seen, and her breath caught in her throat.

There was no pity, not one iota of it.

Instead, she saw compassion, and something else— empathy. Pure, faultless empathy. There was no fear or judgment of her, and the longer she held his gaze, the more she realized how much he was truly seeing her. Not “Crota’s Bane,” not the “one who survived,” nor “poor Eris Morn”—No, The Drifter just saw _her_. He had no idea how grateful she was, and once again, she realized she hadn’t given him enough credit.

But then he frowned. His voice, deep and calm, broke the silence: “You were right.”

Perplexed at the sudden shift in demeanor, she shook her head, “About what?”

But he didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he hung his head in a remorseful gesture, releasing a sigh of the utmost displeasure, and when his gaze returned to hers, there was grief written on his face. He was about to bestow some unpleasant news, and Eris felt the dismay encroaching once more. He shook his head, and then:

“That song was definitely not the best track on the album.” And with that, he flashed her the biggest smile.

_That ignoramus._

All at once, the tension dispersed. To an onlooker, this could be taken as an insensitive comment that completely dismissed Eris’ attempt at catharsis. But Eris knew better. She had come to understand that The Drifter had his own way of sharing an understanding, and truth be told, Eris preferred it to the lamentable condolences that were thrown her way by others.

She was no prig of suitable response.

“Of course I was.” She smirked, “I’m always right.”  
  
He laughed, and Eris felt her disquiet fading into the back of her mind. There was no need to dwell on such painful things. Leave them be and live in the now. A memo she repeated to herself daily, but rarely ever adhered to. Yet, whenever she shared his company, she found herself listening to good inner counsel more willingly.

The Drifter’s chuckles died down, and he tilted his chair back, placing his foot on the edge of the table to counterbalance. He fixed her with a smirk of his own, inquisitive eyes searching her, and she tensed once more. She had developed a sixth sense for knowing when something was brewing inside of him, and all she could ever do was brace for impact. You never knew what you were going to get with The Drifter.

_What now?_

He was pondering something deeply, his face almost slipping into a serious bearing before his eyes shifted to look across the room; over Eris’ shoulder.

“Hey! Dumbass!” He shouted, and she watched as he grabbed his empty can of beer and flung it towards a sofa he kept against the far wall. The only other furniture in the room besides the table.  
  
_Who is he yelling at?_

Turning her head, she watched it sail through the air, landing with a _clank!_ as it struck something hard...something metal, and to Eris’ surprise, from beneath several worn-out throw pillows, the strangest looking Ghost she had ever seen floated up. Its red eye glaring directly at The Drifter.  
  
She hadn’t the faintest idea that his Ghost had been in the room with them, and she wondered if it had always been there for every game and meal they had shared.. It floated closer, and Eris was able to take in its appearance. It looked...terrible. Its little shell was a fusion of mismatched parts soldered together, and there was wiring tied about its wing tips. It looked almost painful, and she watched in stunned silence as it approached their table.

“Go get the uh...” The Drifter held up his hands, making a rectangular shape with his fingers to emphasize what he was thinking of, “Ya know, that, uh...thing— the music thing!”

The Ghost just stared at him. An unamused air about it, and Eris had the distinct impression it was silently demanding that The Drifter _“Use his words!”_ It was most amusing, but also curious. Why didn’t it speak? She nearly jumped when The Drifter dropped his hands onto the table with a loud smack and growled deep in his throat,

“Ya know what the hell I mean! It’s that—” he waved his hands once more, “ _thing_ we found in that desk! Yeah?! Go get it!”

The drone gave the equivalent of an eye roll before floating to the entrance and out of sight.  
  
“Does your Ghost always stay tucked away in the sofa?” She cocked a brow.  
  
“Yeah,” The Drifter scoffed, “His lazy punk-ass naps all day.”

He spoke so rudely about his companion, and Eris could sense it wasn’t a familial act of a bantering love/hate relationship often seen between friends and partners, and she felt a strong resentment towards that.  
  
What she wouldn’t give to have her Ghost back. Her beloved friend.

_Ares..._

Such a strong and noble being he had been. Always her guiding light, she had confided so much in him, and took every word he said to heart. It was akin to having an older brother to love and support her unconditionally. The Drifter was undeservingly spoiled, he clearly took it for granted.  
  
In a trice, the Little Light had returned, something suspended in the aura around it, carrying something in a sort-of tractor beam beneath its shell

“The hell took ya so long?!” The Drifter demanded, and as the Ghost deposited the object upon the table, it slammed itself into the side of its Chosen’s head, before casually soaring back to the couch.  
  
“Owww!” The Drifter clutched at his skull, hissing through his teeth, “Ya lil’fucker!”  
  
The Ghost paid him no mind, just burrowed back into its nest of pillows, and disappeared from sight once more.  
  
Eris had to squeeze her lips tightly together, holding in the laugh that nearly burst forth. She silently applauded the Ghost’s boldness and the wish fulfillment on her behalf. Hell, if The Drifter didn’t deserve it. He growled again, rubbing his head before grabbing the object he requested, and Eris shifted her attention to it.  
  
It was a small black rectangle with a strange wire snaking out from it, with scratches and cracks running along a glass-like box in its center. As The Drifter held it before himself, the glass lit up in a glowing blue, and he began to run his finger across it.  
  
_A data pad?_  
  
No, it was too small for that...  
  
There was a grin on his face now, and she sat rod straight as he slightly stood, scooting his chair to sit beside her. Their proximity too close for her comfort, but she remained still, realizing he was trying to show her something.  
  
“Ya ever seen one’a these?” There was a giddiness in his voice.

Eris gave it a closer look, shaking her head, “I can’t say I have.”  
  
He chuckled, an excitement hung about him. Most presumably at the realization he was about to introduce her to something new. Something even Eris Morn did not know.  
  
“This,” he leaned in closer, holding the rectangle up, “is pre-collapse tech.”  
  
Her eyes scanned the blue screen, words and icons organized into columns that could be scrolled with the tip of a finger. The language didn’t read as English though, but regardless, her interest was kindled.  
  
“Golden Age?”  
  
He nodded, “Uh-huh! Maybe even before.”  
  
She raised a brow at that. If something was clearly that old, it was a true anthropological artifact, and Eris was a bit disconcerted as to why and how this Rat-King would have it.  
  
_Oh wait..._  
  
She corrected her own thinking. Rat...her nickname for him...he was a pack rat. That explained much.  
  
“What is it?” She titled her head, her nose slightly crinkling; a habit of curiosity she couldn’t always stifle.  
  
“ _This_ little geekrection plays music.”

She paused. “What?”  
  
“Yeah!” He laughed, “This little thing can hold thousands of albums and songs in it, trust!”  
  
That was...interesting.

“Where did you find this?” She was genuinely curious, “I mean, how archaic.”  
  
That was certainly a word for it. It looked rather unsophisticated compared to the technology at their disposal in this age. But, evolution and advancement was an inevitability.

He shrugged, “I found it in a desk in Old France back in the Dark Age.” He scratched his chin before smoothing out his beard.

“There was this game we used’a play—Me and Orin.”  
  
She inwardly flinched as Orin was once again being brought into their conversation. She always felt contrite when it happened, but he was the one initiating this time.  
  
“Whenever we’d find an old city, we’d have a scavenger hunt.” His smile filled his eyes, “Whoever could find the coolest, weirdest, most interestin’ thing won.”  
  
“What would you win?”  
  
“Eh,” He shrugged, “Usually the winner just got to make the loser do somethin’ stupid.”  
  
She sighed, “And I bet you lost every time. That would explain much.”  
  
He glared, nose scrunched in pure childish indignation, “No—not always!”

She wasn’t even going to try with this one. She was a bit exhausted.  
  
“Although,” She watched as he slipped into another memory, “Orin did find the weirdest thing one time...”  
  
He started chuckling, and the sheer amusement in his countenance made Eris want to know more.

“She showed up with this huge eight-ball.”  
  
_Wait...a what?_

“An eight-ball?”  
  
“Yeah!” He laughed, “Like on a pool table, but twice as big!”

Eris pictured a useless large sphere for a billiards game, and couldn’t fathom what good it could possibly serve.  
  
“But that ain’t the best part—” he announced, his voice taking on a more dramatic tone. “If ya flipped it upside down, it had a window in it, and if ya shook it, words would appear. Ain’t that some crazy shit?!”  
  
She didn’t understand. A ball that had words inside of it?  
  
“What do you mean? Words would just appear?”  
  
“Well, ya had to shake it, like I said.” He shook his hand to demonstrate, “There was water inside and a cube would float around. It had words on it...like— _yes,_ and _no,_ and _maybe_ , and _try again later_...”

It was the strangest thing she had ever heard. How bizarre an object and to what purpose?  
  
“So,” he snorted, “in the Pilgrim Guard, we all started shakin’ it up real good before a transport or a battle, askin’ it questions and seein’ what the ball had to say. It was kinda fun! Became a ritual.”  
  
Ah, she understood a little better now.  
  
“Like a fortune teller.”  
  
“Yeah! Exactly!”

Eris couldn’t help the small smile that curled at her lips. When it all came down to it, it had been a sweet and childish game to them. A way to escape form the horrors of war in a desolate world, and seeing how much joy the very memory of it brought him, she could not scoff at it. It made him happy, and was a memory he clearly cherished.  
  
She too had practiced amusing customs with her own fireteam, and those were fond recollections to turn to when things became dark and despairing. She was not one to judge.

“But hey, we got sidetracked.” He pointed out, and she blinked her thoughts away, watching as he took the cord of the object and straightened it as best he could.  
  
There were two small buds at the end, and she was surprised to see him split the wire in two, creating a fork in the line. That’s when realization struck her—  
  
_They’re speakers, aren’t they?_  
  
Sure enough, she watched as he popped one into his ear like a comm link, before holding out the second one to her. She hesitated.  
  
“It’s clean, sistah.” He rolled his eyes and brought it closer to her face.  
  
She leaned back, trying to put a little more distance between them as her boundaries were in threat of violation. But she took the bud from him regardless and slid it under her hood and into her ear. It was certainly uncomfortable compared to her usual comm, and she fidgeted with the cord to find a more convenient position.

But then—

A man’s voice, strong and clean, reached her ears causing her to jump, and her heart fluttered as a hum of strings joined him. The tune flowing...like water, a melody both strong and mournful, and she was instantly entranced. She listened to his opening words, like a sermon in a church, and her hand slowly reached up to press the bud firmly into her ear; wanting to catch every word and every note.  
  
She stared ahead into nothing, seeing only with her mind’s eye the story being told. A line repeated—

**_Cut me loose._ **

And she felt the impact of that request. A plea. A begging.

It spoke to her, reached a part of her she wasn’t always sure was there, and as her heart began to soar with both joy and sorrow, she felt the lightest brush of something against her arm. The faintest sensation that could have easily been overlooked, but Eris was hypersensitive to everything around her; an effect from a tragic cause. Her eyes glanced to the side to see The Drifter’s arm and shoulder had been the culprit. He was sitting so close, they were touching even in the most minuscule of ways. She could feel his heat, that fire inside of him burning strong, and it made her ache for a time long since passed.

She watched him. He had closed his eyes, relaxed back in his seat, chin tilted and immersed in the sound. He looked so at peace, his features softer, more youthful, and for the first time in a very long time, Eris felt her heart swell. Nothing grand, it was infinitesimal. Nonetheless, she felt the corners of her lips curl up at the sight of him. So...it was speaking to him too? A song just for the two of them, and with that, she closed her eyes and lost herself. Letting her arm lean into his just a little more. A way to ground herself, to keep him grounded too so they wouldn’t float away. But oh...how hard it was! And for a moment she thought...would it be so bad if the two of them disappeared into the sky?  
  
**_Oh, grief, are you wild as me?_**

She remembered. Remembered when she _was_ wild. A time when she was confident and content. Surrounded by friends, by those she loved, and who loved her in return. Jumping from cliffs into rushing rivers, and climbing mountains just because they could. Once, she had been a Hunter. She had been free. Barefoot in the forest and sitting before campfires when the sky fell dark. The smell of the burning wood and the ash...oh how she loved that smell! She could smell it now. Campfires and the scent of Earth after it had rained. There was something else joining it though...a wispy smell. Something clean and sweet, yet spicy at the same time. She knew that scent—the smell of magic. It hung in the air around Warlocks. Eriana had it, as did Ikora, Toland and Asher...and now...  
  
Her heart leapt into her throat. She wasn’t imagining it, no...the smell was coming from _him_. From The Drifter, and she opened her eyes to look to him once more. He hadn’t moved. Eyes still closed, arm still pressed against her own, and she watched him for a fleeting moment. Yes, she could smell magic from him.  
  
_So, is he indeed a Warlock?_  
  
What did it matter? Like he had said many times before, labels were meaningless in the grand scheme of things. Still, the realization that the Traveler had chosen him to weld such power, she found it amusing. He certainly didn’t seem like a Warlock, but then, she didn’t seem like a Hunter.

 _It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. We are simply us.  
  
_Nothing had ever been truer, and with that, Eris closed her eyes once more and took a deep breath, breathing in his scent of campfires, earth and magic. Funny how he could smell like everything she adored. There was something else there though...a memory...something fighting to come back to her, but the music was taking her further away. She allowed it, relaxing back into her seat as her legs shifted ever so slightly until her knee and thigh bumped The Drifter’s own.

She stiffened for a second, waiting for some form of repercussion, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, to her surprise, she felt him lightly press back. Her senses alert, physical contact with someone else—something she craved and longed for, but also feared. Yet...she had been trying...trying so hard to accept friendly expressions and exchanges once again, to quell the anxiety and the panic that aroused so harshly within her. She had to remind herself that she was safe. That she was safe with him. The music flowed, she felt his warmth, and nothing else mattered in that moment.

**_Let’s cast off, you and I._ **

One last request, and the song ended. Like a spell breaking, she felt something empty itself from inside her, and Eris opened her eyes, turning to The Drifter. She nearly flinched at the reality of just how close they were. He had also turned to look at her, causing them to nearly butt heads, and for a fraction of a second she saw shock flicker in his eyes at their proximity. Clearly, he had been lost like her, and there was something very humbling about it.

Stock still and unblinking, they watched each other, an inch apart. Searching for something inside of the other, and once again, Eris could see a man she had never known. Someone she found herself wishing to know, and the thought flustered her. Mesmerized as his lips curled up, a small smile that reached his eyes and she found herself being the one to break away first, looking away as she removed the speaker from her ear.  
  
“That was a good song. Thank you for sharing it with me.” Her voice came out softer than she expected, and she held the ear bud out for him to take.  
  
He chuckled removing his own, “I thought you’d like it.”  
  
At those words, she glanced back to him as he took the ear piece from her to coil the wire around the device. The smile still on his lips, and there was a genuine satisfaction in the air around him, that he was correct in his assumption that she would enjoy what he shared. She marveled at how he could possibly have known how to reach her. It felt...unfair, and she wished she could know a way to obtain a balance. To know him better.

She gently moved her leg and arm away from his, and in so doing felt the loss of something she couldn’t explain. The song was still resonating inside her, and she remembered why she had loved music in the first place. A way of expressing how one feels when speaking plainly just isn’t enough—

Wait....yes....that was it! Her heart skipped a beat when the truth set in.

_That’s exactly what just happened._

The Drifter...he had shared that song with her because it was the only way to let her know what he felt without having to tell her. To let her know that she wasn’t alone....that he understood.  
  
A line in that song: **_“—woman, tell me, why did you lie for so long? In a hospital bed with the spark gone from your eyes?”_**

She wanted to cry, but she couldn’t anymore. Eris Morn did not shed tears. But sitting in the bubble of truth, watching him as he finished wrapping the device neatly in its cord, her heart began to ache for this man.

He had given her a song.

When he had finished, he stared down at the device in contemplative silence. His eyes looking but not seeing. He had slipped away once more into a memory, and Eris granted him respectful reverence. Whatever it was, she could see it was bittersweet. His lips twitched in amusement, but his eyes—there was sorrow building inside of them. His hand shook so slightly it was easy to miss, but as before, Eris was hypersensitive. These eyes of hers could spot the beating of a fly’s heart. She remained still, and watched him blink away the reverie, returning to the present. He let out a sigh, and with a tiny nod of his head, he came to a decision. He turned to her and held out the device, confounding Eris.  
  
“What are you doing?”  
  
He chuckled, “Givin’ ya a gift.”

She was fixated on his smile, feeling a somber nature within it, and Eris was loathe to take the object from him. It clearly meant something, it had sentimental value. She couldn’t possibly take it.  
  
“No. I can’t accept this.”  
  
“Ya can’t or ya won’t?”  
  
“Either.” She stood firm.  
  
He scoffed, and gave the slightest roll of his eyes, “Darlin,” he cleared his throat, “I have hundreds of gadgets and trinkets. I’m a scavenger, it’s how I roll. I ain’t gonna miss this—”  
  
“Lies.” She cut him off. She didn’t know who he was trying to fool, her or himself.  
  
He chuckled, that smile of his never wavered. It was annoying.

“Think what ya like, but I’m fine partin’ with it.”  
  
She took a deep breath, agitation rising in her. She didn’t want to argue with him about this.  
  
“You may pretend it doesn’t, but that device obviously means something to you. Something deep. You cherish it, and I will not take a cherished possession from you.”

At her words, his eyes widened for the briefest second and the smile faltered. She had said something triggering, and Eris was certain she had won this argument. But all at once, the smile returned and he laughed.  
  
“Ya know,” he began, “A very long time ago, someone else said the same thing to me.”  
  
Eris was taken aback. He continued:  
  
“I offered a gift. Somethin’ I cherished more than anythin’ else in the whole world, and ya know what she said to me?”  
  
_She?_ _Orin..._

Eris waited with bated breath.  
  
“She said, _‘I can’t take something you clearly love!’_ ” He paused, “Ya know what I said?”  
  
Her eyes bore into his, showing him that she was listening with every fiber of her being.

“I said, _‘I want to give the thing I cherish most, to the person I cherish the most.’_ ”

Something warm filled her, and she knew he was telling her a truth, another secret. Something private from a life that was long since gone, and she was honored that he trusted her with it. One day, she would find the balance. One day, she would share more with him. Eris made a silent vow that she would. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself. Hesitation staying her hand. How could she say no at this point? He had put her between a rock and a hard place. A cherished gift, a precious memory, a shared secret...she almost laughed, the man was a master manipulator. He didn’t even have to lie! Tell the truth, pull the heartstrings, he wins.  
  
_Damn him._

“You won’t accept _No_ as an answer.” She kept her voice steady.  
  
“Not at all.” He winked.

What else could she do? So, she reached out and gently took the device from his hands, their fingers briefly touching, and even through their gloves, she could feel the fire that filled him. She brought the device close to her chest and offered him a small smile.  
  
“Then I will humbly accept your gift. Thank you.”

He smacked his hands on his knees, winked once more, and stood.

“Well, it’s gettin’ late,” He announced, wiping his hands along the sides of his coat, “I’m gonna hit the hay.”

Eris nodded. It was time for her to leave. Pushing her chair back, she rose to stand, but as she did, realization struck...of something in her hand. She still held her card. They hadn’t finished their game, and her eyes glanced down.  
  
A chuckle.  
  
“What’s up?” He asked.  
  
“I lost.” She held a four of hearts.  
  
Looking back to him, shrugging, and watching the realization dawn on him as well. He had forgotten too.  
  
“Oh! Ha! Better luck next time, Moondust!”  
  
She nodded and tossed the card onto the table, not feeling the loss at all.  
  
“I’ll bid you good night.” Her good manners gracing him with a slight bow, and he smiled saluting her with two fingers at the side of his head. His own brand of etiquette.

“Night, darlin'. Safe trip!”

She wanted to say something else, but her mind couldn’t form a practical statement. At this point, she was becoming a hanger-on to his world. Yes, she needed to leave. So, without another word, she turned on her heel and began the walk to the docking bay. Back to her ship. Back to Luna. Back to her solitude. To the quiet.  
  
No, wait...that wasn’t true. Not anymore. She glanced down at The Drifter’s gift. Her thumb stroking the cracks along its screen, and slowly, she began to unravel the cord, bringing the speakers to her ears once more. She wanted to hear that song again.

The song about The Drifter and Eris Morn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically, in a way, the song they listen to is canon. The song is "No Oath, No Spell" by Murder By Death, and they have been featured on the Destiny 2 soundtrack. So, the band's music DOES officially exist in the world of Destiny.
> 
> Here's the song if you want to give it a listen. Hearing it live is best: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Otjw6_coNko


	3. Snap

“Hey, Moondust, guess what?”  
  
Eris peered at him from around the glass of water at her lips, brow arching as she registered the barely contained excitement in his voice. His eyes were alight.

She swallowed, “What?”

“I learned a new word this morning—” The Drifter grinned, his hands nimbly shuffling the cards for their weekly game, “Hy-poth-e-cate.”  
  
He sounded it out slowly.  
  
“Hypothecate?” She smoothed the word for him.  
  
“Yeah!” His eyes shifted to the side, recalling information, “H-Y-P-O-T-H-E-C-A-T-E. Hypothecate!”

He spelled it out then smiled with all his teeth, and Eris found herself grappling with her own delectation. He was so proud of himself, of this little victory of his—to learn a new word in the English language. She couldn’t help but feel rather proud of him too, and also amused at the childish joy he was barely containing. It was rather endearing. But, alas, Eris Morn could not resist teasing him just a little bit. It’s not like he didn’t deserve it. They had fallen into a comfortable interplay over this past year—

_Mercy...has it been a year of this already?_

Time did tend to pass differently when one is immortal, and Eris wasn’t the best at tracking her days. One seemed to simply bleed into another, and honestly, did it really matter?

“Been reading your dictionary, I see.” She sat her glass on the table.  
  
“Yep.” He nodded, “It means— to pawn somethin’ and put it up for collateral for a debt.”  
  
“Ah,” she nodded, “I see why the word resonated with you. You hypothecate regularly, I take it?”  
  
He narrowed his eyes, and she could feel the heat rising in him. Oh...he was getting ruffled already.

“Why you goin’ ‘round rainin’ on people’s parades, Three-Eyes?”  
  
She shrugged, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I was simply making an observation.”  
  
“Yeah?” He fixed her with the most condescending expression, “Observe _this._ ”  
  
He raised his middle finger, eyes daring her to rebut, but Eris was feeling a bit...saucy this evening. Traveler only knew why.  
  
“Oh dear, resorting to juvenile conduct, are we?”

“Gotta get down to your level, hun.”  
  
She wasn’t offended at all, she knew it was simply meant to bait her, and the smallest smirk curled her lip. He mirrored her expression. A second passed, staring one another down....then she made her move.

“I was simply making an observation that you comprehended the definition of something within the proper context because you found a common correlation to your own personal experiences.”

She gave him a mouthful, and watched his eyes narrow in return. When she used longer sentences and bigger words, it always pushed him to the edge, and Eris knew he was trying to put it all together as quickly as he could. She could actually see him trying to process it; his eyes darted side to side.

_He’s too easy._

“Ya feel better ‘bout yourself by makin’ others feel stupid, Moondust?” There was a crinkle that would always form on his nose when he was angry or frustrated, and she could see it now.

_Hmph! How infantile._

“Are you angry, Rat?” She folded her hands on the table, and assumed a virtuous countenance, “I apologize if you feel that way.”  
  
The passive aggression she oozed was hitting the mark. He was clenching the cards so tightly, she was surprised he didn’t pulverize them. Sincerely, she wasn’t trying to insult him or hurt the feelings he actually did possess. No, it’s just...there was something fun in teasing The Drifter. Something delightful in engaging him in playful banter. He was greatly mistaken in thinking that she thought of him as stupid. Quite the opposite, in fact. The man was brilliant. Which is why she found minor enjoyment in making him second guess himself. It was his lack of confidence and self-esteem that caused such angry reactions in him.

She wasn’t a psychoanalyst, but she didn’t need to be to figure out the root of his occasional emotional outbursts.

He never took his eyes off hers as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table. His mouth twitching into a smirk. She braced for the counter-attack.

“That I feel ya insulted me? Or that I feel stupid?” His voice was low, almost a hiss. A challenge in his tone.

“Ah, so you _are_ feeling stupid.”

Something flashed in his eyes....anger, offense, embarrassment....

“Let me lay your fears to rest, Rat.” She cut him off before he could argue back, straightening her posture before continuing, “I do not think you are stupid, but the way you conduct yourself straddles the line.”  
  
His mouth was forming a pout, and she shook her head to stop him from saying anything. She wasn’t finished.  
  
“I don’t know how you did it, but some way, somehow, you have found that balance between genius and moron.”

“Kiss my ass!” He was livid now.

Eris fought hard to repress her laughter. She hadn’t the faintest idea why she was feeling the need to torment him today, but she couldn’t help the thrill that filled her in seeing him so indignant. She should be ashamed of herself. Her behavior was in itself juvenile and highly immature, and yet, the truth she was loathe to admit was that whenever she and The Drifter had these little tiffs, something woke inside her. Something warm...something pleasant. Somehow, it made her feel...closer to him.

It was a battle of wits.

“At least I can see past the end’a my nose!”  
  
Her eyes narrowed at his words, “Meaning?”  
  
“Ya think yo’ better than everyone else, cause ya got this frou-frou way a talkin’. Like, you’s superior because ya had a better education!”

 _Frou-Frou?_  
  
“Have we not walked this road before?” Her tone was putting on airs, and she watched his eye twitch in response.  
  
She was enjoying this too much.

“Ya may be good at words, but I’ll run laps ‘round ya any day with numbers!” His declaration was certain, and for the first time, Eris could see some genuine confidence in him. Not bravado, nor audaciousness, but genuine pride and assurance in his own abilities.

“That I don’t doubt, Rat.” She nodded, “In fact, I’ll be the first to admit it.”

Oh, that was the stunning strike. He hadn’t expected her to concur, and she watched his fighting spirit slip, once again— a deer in headlights. He wasn’t sure how to respond, switching from insult to compliment was a surprise attack, and she decided to go in for the killing blow...

“You built a paracasaul storage unit out of old kitchen appliances.” She leaned forward, her expression neutral, “I truly believe there’s no other being in this galaxy who could have accomplished such a feat.”  
  
There, she praised him. Now, Eris could sit back and enjoy watching him struggle to comprehend what had just happened. She won this round for certain, and her mood was substantially elated. It was hard to keep the smile off her face, but she was a pillar of self-discipline

The Drifter just stared, his eyes searching her for any sign of deception, any sign that she was goading him into a trap. The bewilderment was radiating from him.  
  
_Poor man..._

Should she overkill? Hmmm....  
  
“Though you seem unable to comprehend how to program the recording device on a data pad.”  
  
He smacked the table and leaned back in his chair, “There it is! That’s what I was waitin’ for!” He pointed at her accusingly, “Ya just can’t leave well-enough alone, eh, Moondust?!”

Eris reached for her glass. She had to hide the growing smile, she couldn’t let him see her merriment over all this; it was all part of the game they had established. An unwritten rule she made for herself, not to drop the façade of cold calculation. It was her poker face that always served her well. But as she brought the glass to her lips, she couldn’t resist....  
  
“Hey, Rat, spell _Adequate_.” She took a sip of her water as he glared daggers.  
  
“B-I-T-C-H.”  
  
And that broke her. Somehow, his rapid-fire response shattered her conviction, and she found herself spitting the water back into the glass, before snorting and laughing out loud. The most girlish giggle escaping her that startled even herself, and she quickly brought her hand to her lips. Stifling it, dropping her demeanor quickly back into unyielding stoicism. But it was too late. She had tripped at the finish line...and he _knew_ it.

_Dammit!_

She glared, as a big smile spread across his face. He had swooped in and snatched the victory right out of her hands.  
  
“Ya like that one, huh, Moondust?” He winked.

She lowered her hand and the glass, her face impassive once more; hiding the embarrassment. Eris Morn did _not_ giggle.

She cleared her throat, regaining some dignity, “Are we going to play cards this evening, Rat? Or are you just going to shuffle them until the ink rubs off?”

Eris deflected, trying to push the attention away from herself, and The Drifter chuckled before shuffling the cards one last time. He was clearly aware of what she was doing, but not calling her out on it.

“Ya ever play, Snap?”

She blinked, “I can’t say I have.”  
  
“Oohhhh...then you’re gonna love this, sistah!”  
  
With the utmost skill, he quickly dealt out the entire deck between them, and Eris watched in confusion as he began to remove his gloves.

_What is he doing?_

“Rules are simple—We keep the cards face down in a pile, and take turns turnin’ them over to form a new pile—ya lay a card, I lay a card, and so-on.”

Sitting aside the gloves, he rolled the sleeves of his coat up, baring his wrists and revealing fully tattooed skin beneath.

“BUT...” he scooped up his cards and adjusted them neatly in his hand, “If we lay the same card— ya lay a Jack, I lay a Jack, ya lay a five, I lay a five, yadda-yadda— we have to claim the pile. Whoever _snaps_ their hand down on it first, gets the pile. Whoever claims the entire deck at the end, wins. Got it?”

Eris nodded, “Simple enough.”  
  
His smirk grew and he winked. “Take your gloves off.”

She was taken aback. Why on Earth would they need to do that? Was he setting her up for something? She narrowed her eyes, a warning in her expression, letting him know that she wasn’t going to fall for any of his tricks. He simply laughed.  
  
“This is a game of speed and dexterity, darlin’.” He tapped his cards against the table, “Nimble fingers! As a Hunter, ya should appreciate that.”  
  
He cracked his knuckles in demonstration. He was right, she could appreciate a game where those attributes were required.

_Hell, why not?_

She began to remove her gloves, “A game of speed, you say?”

“That’s right—ya gotta move fast! Lay them cards as quick as possible!”  
  
“Hmph,” She hummed, cracking her own knuckles in response, sitting her gloves aside, “So, it’s a game of focus as well?”  
  
“Bingo!”

She scooped up her own pile, straightening the cards in her hand before leaning forward slightly; poised for action. The Drifter matched her position, locking his eyes with hers, and they stared each other down. The suspense growing, the tension swelling, and even Eris was beginning to feel the excitement of the competition. Heart beating just a bit faster. She waited for him to make the first move, to take the lead. A second passed, then another, until—

“Go!” he threw down a card— FOUR, and she quickly followed with a SEVEN.

TEN – THREE – FIVE – EIGHT – TWO —

With little effort, Eris slid the top cards through her fingers and into the pile. Once, she had been a Blade Dancer, and her hands had been her pride and joy. Swift, accurate and deadly. And yet, despite this, she was shocked to find The Drifter’s speed matched her own, and she began to second guess what class she had took him for...she thought he was a Warlock, but now...  
  
_Could he be a Hunter?_  
  
No...he couldn’t be. She smelled magic on him, that scent of paracausality that only Warlocks possessed. It was so unique that there was no mistaking it. But The Drifter...he was so quick and nimble with his fingers! She focused her gaze on the cards, but truthfully, her attention was being pulled towards his hands. Skin exposed, grease stains not completely faded from his nails, and small symbols tattooed on his knuckles...she was trying to make out what they were. She had never seen his hands before...  
  
Then—

SEVEN – ACE – ACE  
  
Within the split second it took her mind to process the matching cards, The Drifter had slammed his hand onto the pile, causing Eris to jump, and she stifled a gasp as her eyes darted to his. He smirked and added the cards to his own, then flicked his wrist as he snapped his fingers in front of her.  
  
“Snap! Ya gotta be quicker, love!”

_Damn it!_

She clenched her teeth, irritation rising. She had allowed herself to lose focus—never again! Eris was in full competition mode now.

“Hmph!” She threw down a card— EIGHT.

He threw his own— SIX.

KING – TWO – JACK – THREE – THREE –

She threw her hand out, but The Drifter was faster still, and laid claim to the pile; her hand coming down on top of his. She was practically seething now. How could he be so much faster than her?! This was humiliating! She pulled her hand back, and an embittered sigh passed her lips as he gathered up the cards with an overweening grin.  
  
“Gotta step up the game— Hunter.” He snickered, pure patronization in his tone, and Eris felt the heat of her anger rise. Oh no...she was not going to be humiliated this way! Once, she had been a Hunter, and true, her Light had gone...but she was still Eris Morn.

Eyes narrowed, posture steeled. She threw a QUEEN.

He answered with a NINE.

“Are you angry, Moondust?” He spoke sweetly, a sing-song in his tone.

TEN.

Bastard...feeding her own lines back to her...  
  
ACE.

“Not at all.” Her tone was harsh, and dismissive. She would not let him break her concentration. Her eyes were on the cards, unblinking.

SEVEN – QUEEN – KING – KING –

Eris slammed her hand onto the cards—a little harder than necessary—while his came down on hers. Her lips curling, meeting his eyes once more.  
  
“Snap.” She nearly hissed.

He laughs, removing his hand so she could claim her win.

“Ooo! Better!” He comments, and there’s something about the way he smirks at her...  
  
_Did he let me have that one?_

“Don’t carry me, Rat.” There was a growl deep in her throat, a threat impossible to miss. She would not be coddled or insulted in such a manner.

He gasped, clutching at his chest dramatically, “I would never!”

She glares a warning, then throws a NINE.

FIVE – SIX –

She watched as he flipped a card through his fingers, rolling it around his thumb before tossing it into the pile. A fluid trick that hadn’t disrupted his speed in the least, and Eris was awed at the sheer skill. No! No! She wouldn’t let him play his tricks! She was focused, slipping back into her role as Hunter.

“Don’t even think about it...”  
  
She left the treat hanging in the air, but he merely chuckled.

EIGHT – JACK –

“Oh no!” He gasped, “Oh no! Oh NO! I think my hand’s cramping up!”

There was a giddy vibrato in his voice, a playfulness meant to mock her, and Eris stilled herself from trembling in rage.  
  
“Oh no! OH NOOO! AHHH!” His voice rose in pitch and cracked, laughter frosting his words, and despite his claims, his speed and dexterity hadn’t diminished in the least.

TEN – TWO -

Unwittingly, Eris had begun to lean forward, throwing cards down faster with each draw. She was _not_ going to let him get the better of her, to psych her out!

THREE – FIVE –

_Where are the damn doubles?!_

FOUR – SEVEN

The agitation growing, the embarrassment at being shown-up. No way in hell was she going to lose to him—absolutely not! Come what may, she would win this!

ACE – QUEEN – QUEEN

_There it is!_

And with a violence she hadn’t unleashed in centuries, Eris Morn dove forward, throwing herself onto the cards in a desperation for victory. However, The Drifter had the same strategy in mind, and as they threw themselves onto the table, their heads slammed together.

“Ow!”

“Watch it, Rat!”

"Jesus! Whaddya got under that hood, Moondust?! A steel sweat band?!”

Both sprawled upon the table, they had latched onto the pile of cards. Each with a vice-like grip trying to lay claim. But Eris knew she had been first, it had been close, but she _knew_ she had won! She tugged, but so did he, and so began a new game of tug-a-war.  
  
“Let go, Three-Eyes!”  
  
“Absolutely not! I beat you by a fraction of a second!”  
  
“The hell ya did!”

He tried to pull the cards away from her, but she held firm. Gritting her teeth and twisting her wrists in an effort to break his hold. But The Drifter had a grip of iron, and as they both twisted about, he burst into laughter. Much to her annoyance.  
  
“Let go of the cards!” Her voice was commanding.  
  
“Nu-uh! _You_ let go!” He was giggling like a child.

She pressed her lips together to subdue a groan of frustration, “I’m warning you, Rat...” Her eyes narrowed, their noses nearly touching, “Let. Go. NOW.”

His expression changed to one of condescension, “Whatcha gonna do, Moondust?” His voice was light and nearly a whisper, “Fix my grammar?”

Oh, if looks could kill— The Drifter would be rotting in hell!  
  
Her strategy wasn’t working, she needed to change tactics, claim her rightful victory and knock him on his ass. So, she pressed her shoulder into his own, and used the stability to swiftly bring her legs up and onto the table. Now kneeling over him, she attempted to throw his balance off by pressing downwards. It worked! But unfortunately, he held tight to the cards, and with a sudden yank, he caused her to topple forward. She gasped as she found herself falling head first over The Drifter and off the side of the table. The area rug rising to meet her fast. Nonetheless, she never relinquished her grip, and due to the natural force of gravity and The Drifter’s own stubbornness, he went over the edge with her; both landing in a heap upon the floor.  
  
His own laughter was practically shrieking at this point, and quickly, Eris rose to her knees, but The Drifter followed likewise. The battle resumed. Each pulling in the opposite direction.

“Drop them, Rat!”  
  
“Bite me!”

She pulled as hard as she could, throwing her weight into twisting at the torso, but nothing gave! He was like a tick!

“I reached the cards first!” She didn’t even try to mask her growing fury, “Stand down!”  
  
His smile was all teeth, “Stand down?”

She didn’t like that look in his eye, and sure enough, with a patronizing smile, he leaned into her. His body going limp, and she gasped as she felt the weight of him pressing down upon her.

“Rat! Quit it!”

He giggled, pressing down slowly.  
  
“Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare sandbag on me!”

He giggled harder, and she felt the weight of his chest and shoulders come down in a dead fall until she finally buckled and collapsed onto her back; The Drifter’s torso atop her.  
  
A yelp, followed by a growl of rage she had been suppressing, “Remove yourself this instant!”  
  
She sounded like a pompous parent even to her own ears, and The Drifter just continued to laugh.  
  
“Ya told me to stand down...” He teased, “I’m down.”

She shoved at his shoulders, even kicking her legs to try and scoot out from beneath him but to no avail. Though he was a man smaller in stature, he was still broader in size compared to her, and without her light, she could only physically accomplish so much.  
  
“Off!” She demanded.  
  
“Make me.” He retorted.  
  
She was going to punch him. She was going to rear back, and knock his teeth in. Let his Ghost fix the dental work. But as she raised her hand, she found a semblance of self-control and instead of forming a fist, she placed her palm over his face and tried to shove him back. The plan backfired when she felt something warm and wet smooth over her hand...

_Oh...GOD! He licked my hand!!_

That was the killing blow for her.  
  
Screaming, “YOU HORRID, WRETCHED MAN!” as she quickly ripped her hand from his face.  
  
She was appalled! She was livid!

He howled with laughter, even when she wiped her hand furiously on the sleeve of his own coat.

“YOU DISGUSTING PIG!”  
  
He fell into another round of furious laughter, which continued even after she had slipped out from beneath him and to her feet. Looking down at him with rage as he rolled onto his back and clutched his ribs in pure levity. She wanted to smash his skull in! Oh, how she could just break every bone in his body in that moment! The cards lay forgotten on the floor, scattered about without a winner to claim them, and the harder Eris glowered, the harder The Drifter laughed. She stomped away from him and back to her chair, resuming her seat with indignation.

How dare he do that to her!

“Come on, Moondust!” He called out, “Don’t be that way! Have some fun!”

Fun?! There was nothing fun in being... _violated_ in such a way!

_He meant nothing by it, and you know it._

Her own inner voice argued against her.

_He’s just an overgrown child._

That was true. Still, she was not going to play such asinine games! His laughter began to die down, fading into chuckles, and she watched as he sat up. His back to her, hands propping him up, legs stretched out in from of him.  
  
“Did I make ya upset, Moondust?” He spoke over his shoulder at her, a teasing infantile tone in his voice.

She sniffed, nose in the air against his puerility, “I will not be disrespected so!”  
  
“I wasn’t tryin’ to disrespect ya, trust!” He chuckled, “I was just teasin’.”  
  
“Hmph!” She folded her arms, and instantly regretted giving such a response. She was coming across as more childish than he.  
  
Still, she was shocked at all that had transpired. How did they go from a card game to this? Howbeit, the card game was in itself, a catalyst for chaos. Curious...  
  
“What a violent little card game.” She muttered.  
  
“Yeah!” He snorted, “Ain’t it great?”

Eris sighed, “Your invention, I take it?”  
  
She watched him shake his head, still facing away from her, “Nah, Orin taught it to me.”

She froze. That woman coming back into the conversation...every single time she shared an evening with The Drifter. The Awoken seemed to permeate every aspect of his life, and Eris was beginning to worry at this sentiment.

_Why do I concern myself with such thoughts?_

She had no proverbial horse in this race.

"Orin taught it to you?” She sought clarity.  
  
A bark of laughter escaped him, “Don’t sound so surprised, hun! She was a Titan, after all!”  
  
That was true, and Eris found herself imagining just how much ruckus a single round could cause when a Titan was dealt in. It nearly put an expression of amusement on her face. Granting all this, the subject of Orin, though taboo, was bringing something to the surface within Eris. For months now, in secret, she had thought often about the Titan and the Raggedy-Man. Ever since The Drifter had revealed his secret to her. That Orin and he...that they had been...There was a burning question—a curiosity that Eris had fought the urge to indulge. But curiosity had always been the chink in her armor. That want to know—that _need_ to know. And now, as she looked down at the man who seemed to haunt her daily thoughts while she stood within the devastation of Luna, she realized she needed to know the answers after all.

“May I ask what happened between you and Orin?”

She put effort into keeping her voice steady and polite, unsure how such a request would be perceived by him, and after a moments pause with no response, she thought that perhaps she had indeed asked too much. His relationship with Orin and its ultimate deterioration was his own private affair, and truly none of her business. 

He remained seated on the floor with his back to her, and she waited, watching him closely. Looking for any sign that he was considering an answer, or if he was shutting down on her. She wondered if perhaps explaining her motive would aide in his decision, but that would also mean giving away a fraction of her pride. Eris was too stubborn for that. Her attention snapped back to the forefront when The Drifter began to move. Sliding his arms across the floor and out to his sides, coming down to lay flat on his back. He now looked at her from an upside down angle in a childish and lazy manner.

“You _maaaayyyy_...” He flashed her a big smile...yet said nothing more.

The sarcasm was not lost on her. She narrowed her eyes, sighing, “ _Will you please_ tell me what happened between you and Orin?”

There. She corrected herself. Humoring his little semantic dissatisfaction.

Silence. He was studying her, and she hoped her expression wasn’t betraying anything. Then—he sighed, and quickly drummed his hands against the floor as he came to a decision.

“Well...” Eyes shifting away to look at the ceiling, pondering...remembering. Then he shrugged, “I really dunno.”

Eris was not expecting that answer. Was he deflecting again? Brushing her question aside?

“How could you possibly not know how your own marriage ended?”

As soon as the words passed her lips, she flinched. It came out sounding unintentionally harsh and there was something about the word _marriage_ that produced a sinking feeling inside of her.

_But why?_

He cocked a brow at her, “It’s complicated.”

That was an understatement if ever she had heard one. She knew _that_ without a shred of doubt. Still, she wanted to hear the story, she wanted to know him a little better, staring down at him, letting him know that she was still waiting for an answer. A moment passed, and he sighed, rolling over to face her with legs criss-crossed, elbows resting on his knees.

“Ya really wanna know?” There was exhaustion in his countenance now, but Eris was not to be deterred.  
  
She nodded, “Yes.”  
  
“Fine, here it is.” He cleared his throat, “I ain’t no Titan—”

_Obviously._

“But, Orin convinced the Pilgrim Guard to let me join ‘em. She vouched for me.”

His eyes darted away from hers, taking a moment to compile his thoughts, “Ya weren’t around durin’ the Dark Age, hun, so let me fill ya in on the mind-set.”

He clapped his hands together and took a breath, looking back to her before he continued,

“People were real scared—confused...desperate for answers. Paranoia was runnin’ through everyone, and ‘cause a’ that, everyone was formin’ little...” He waved his hand, searching for the right word, “Cliques.”

She nodded, not much had changed in that regard to be honest.

“Everythin’ was black and white. Ya were either a Warlord, a Guardian, or a Mortal, and that’s the way it was. Ya had to pick one.”

He glanced down at his hands, his fingers fidgeting, and Eris patiently waited for him to continue—to let him take his time, just as he had done for her.  
  
“I didn’t see things that way...still don’t. And man, oh man—did that cause a shit storm!” He paused for a second, then scoffed, “Goddamn Titans...they blindly obey any order given, they never ask questions, never stop to think about _who_ they’re listenin’ too...”  
  
He was practically mumbling, and Eris felt her nerves stand on end, she knew...she knew exactly where The Drifter was going.  
  
“There weren’t no governments, no religious orders or any a’ that crap...”  
  
She could see the aggravation growing in his eyes, whatever memory he was having still laid a claim to his emotions, and the empathy within her was reaching out to him.

“But The Speaker...” His jaw clenched, “Everyone thought he was the fuckin’ messiah.”  
  
Anxiety was growing inside of Eris, and she began to feel somewhat...ashamed. She too had seen The Speaker as a Prophet, as a holy chosen man who was guiding them all along the path of salvation. Fulfilling the covenants of the Traveler.

“He was preachin’ this bullshit ‘bout the Light purifying us all. That we Risen had a divine responsibility to become the leaders of the new world.”

Eris could hear his breath growing harder, his jaw twitching, “That we were _superior_ and the mortals were obligated to support us. To give us tribute.”  
  
He scoffed, hanging his head. A clear sign, that after all these centuries, he was still angry.

“And everyone bought that shit!”  
  
Her own fingers began to fidget in her lap, growing more uncomfortable, more distressed. Her own memories were returning...She started when his eyes darted back to her, and she could see pure anger burning within them.

“That’s the same thing the Warlords preached! But the people were so damned blind!"

He hissed, and Eris swallowed, looking away from him. She laced her fingers together to still the trembling...she remembered...remembered when she had returned to the City from the Hellmouth...  
  
_No...No!_

How The Speaker...how he had said....  
  
_1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10—_

She took a deep breath, squeezing her hands tighter. She wouldn’t think about that now, no! She wanted to hear The Drifter.

“Thing is—” He continued, “I was...very loud ‘bout how I felt. ‘Bout the Speaker, the Traveler, even the Ghosts...and it didn’t sit well with _anybody_.”

He sat a little straighter and sighed, “Man, did the other Guardsman hate me. Thought I was makin’ ‘em all look bad in front of the Speaker. They wanted ta’ toss me out, but Orin wouldn’t let ‘em.”

He took a deep breath, slowly releasing it as he tilted his head back.

“She was always stickin’ up for me...always watchin’ my back....my best friend...” His voice trailed off, and his choice of words stirred something inside of Eris.

 _I know how that feels._  
  
“Time went by, we fell in love—” His lips twitched into a gentle smile and she could see happier memories flashing in his eyes, “We decided we wanted ta’ get married. But like I said—there weren’t no governments or churches back then...if ya wanted ta’ get hitched, ya had to do it yourself.”

“Under a tree on a hill far away?” The words passed her lips automatically, and she worried for a moment that she had disrupted the flow of his confession. However, when his eyes met hers once more, there was bliss in his expression. Eris felt the corners of her own lips turn upwards, she couldn’t help it. It was romantic, and even she would acknowledge that.

“Yeah,” He smiled a little brighter, “She tried to make herself a weddin’ gown.” He chuckled, “She could’a worn plywood armor for all I cared! She’d still look gorgeous!”  
  
A small snort escaped Eris, finding humor in the fact that what he said was most likely true. Orin had been sublime, nothing could have marred her beauty, and honestly, as she looked down at The Drifter, she couldn’t help the rather ungenerous thought...that he was far from worthy of her.

_Don’t be so cruel, Eris Morn._

Self-berating, she turned her attention back to him.  
  
“We kept it a secret. Didn’t want nobody to know.”  
  
Eris blinked, “Why?”  
  
His expression shifted to one of derisiveness, leaning forward with eyes that clearly said: _“Well, DUH—”_ And Eris tightened her jaw, preparing to go on the defensive if he said anything that called her listening skills into question.

"The other Guardsman _hated_ me. I was thinkin’ that if they found out she was my wife, they’d turn their assault on her too. Punish her ‘cause of me and my big mouth.”

He shook his head and closed his eyes as he tried to control his emotion. The memories were clearly dredging up pain deep inside of him, pain that hadn’t been resolved.

“I was tryin’ to protect her.” He practically whispered, “I was tryin’ to keep my wife safe.”

Eris’s heart fluttered at his words. Feeling the sincerity, the impact of the love this man had for a woman, and she felt she had achieved a small victory in her quest to understand him better.  
  
_He’s protective._

“We got caught though.” He opened his eyes and sighed, “And they were pissed!”

Eris hated people. She really did. Their pettiness and fickle natures were taxing, and their desire to enforce personal agendas upon each other was within the realms of evil intent in her book. What business was it of theirs who someone chose to love and be with? She could feel ire on The Drifter’s behalf.

“And sure enough—” He waved his hand in the air, allowing it to drop onto his leg with a dramatic _smack!_ “Orin started gettin’ flack for it!”

He leaned forward, elbows once again on his knees as he rubbed his face in exasperation. Pausing a moment with his head in his hands, and Eris could feel the heat of his frustration from where she sat.

“We tried to ignore it. Tried to push on...but,” He sighed, running his hands down his face, “Orin wouldn’t let ‘em get away with the _bullyin’_...it just made her a bigger target.”

He fell silent, his eyes staring down at the floor. Collecting thoughts, controlling emotions. A minute passed. An eternity of seconds. Then, he took a deep breath, “I don’t know what happened...” His voice was barely a whisper, and there was a tremor threatening to spill forth, “There was a battle...we got caught up in an ambush—”

He dropped his hands back into his lap, his gaze clouded over in memory, “We were so outnumbered...so overpowered. We split to try and divide and conquer the enemy...but...”  
  
Eris watched him begin to fade, and she wondered if she should call him back. This memory, whatever had happened, he was struggling to maintain his anchor in reality. She had done this many times herself, disappearing inwards for hours at a time. She never had anyone there to pull her to safety, but she could offer _him_ aide. She opened her mouth to hail him to her, but then he spoke—

“I have no memory of what happened to me...I woke beneath a pile of corpses. Crusted in blood that wasn’t my own...”  
  
She froze...his voice was a mumbled breath, devoid of the character she had spent so much time in the company of. The Drifter...no...The Drifter wasn’t here anymore. And, heavens above...even his appearance had changed! Eyes lighter...almost blue in color now. His back straighter, his chin held a little higher...

_I’m in the presence of Eli, aren’t I?_

Her heart beat just a little faster. Hadn’t she wanted to meet him? And now, here he was.

“I couldn’t breathe. The stench of casualty...it burns inside of you. I had pulled myself out, clawing to break free...into a cold night air. My Ghost meeting me—saving me once more...” He paused, “And I was alone. The only life in a desert filled with remains that were once souls. Dreams and ambitions bled out into the sand...I even thought I could hear them.”

A shiver ran through her, and she gripped the fabric of her pants, listening intently. She could see it...could feel it...  
  
“There were fireflies all around me...and yet...I knew deep inside that wasn’t what they were...”

She felt her breath hitch. She knew what he meant—for she had seen them too!  
  
_All those centuries ago, I saw them too! In the pit..._

“I think they were remnants...the ones left behind. The one’s God forgot about...and I thought to myself, _are they just like me?_ ”

She bit her lip, steeling herself against the onslaught his words produced.  
  
“I could see every star in the sky. Vast above, barren below...and the realization, the unfortunate truth...that I had been left behind.”

His lips parted as he slowly exhaled, still trapped in the memory, and Eris swallowed down the heaviness rising inside of her.

“I walked...and walked...days gone, then weeks...no food or water. I think I died numerously. Several lives discarded in the wilderness.”  
  
She knew. She knew _exactly_ what he meant.

“I went looking for her. She hadn’t been among the dead, so I went looking....but I couldn’t find her anywhere. I tracked the Guard, I asked every person I met about a woman with blue skin and tiger eyes...but no one knew, and if they did—no one would tell me.”

He swallowed. Something glistening in his eyes, “And as the years went by...I believed she truly must be dead, because if she were alive...wouldn’t she have found me?”

There was something breaking inside of Eris, and she trembled. Why? Why was the world so cruel?  
  
“But then,” His lips twitched, “I found her.”  
  
The tiniest gasp escaped Eris, and her fingers tightened in her lap.  
  
“In the Last City...in a mechanic’s shop. She had left the Guard...found work using the skills I had taught her to live a normal life. A life she’d often considered.”  
  
He wore a bittersweet expression, “My god...is there any words in any language that can describe true joy? That word isn’t good enough...it doesn’t capture the rapture of finding what your spirit lost.” 

Eris pondered a moment—

_No. I cannot think of one._

“I rushed to her, but...” His entire countenance froze. Unblinking, unmoving, and she feared for a moment that he had stopped breathing, but when he spoke again, it was in a shaking whisper: “She didn’t know me at all.”  
  
Eris felt the entire world fall out from beneath her.

“She had forgotten me.”

Eris licked her lips, “What?” It came out a whisper, and for a moment she thought he hadn’t heard her.  
  
“I watched her. I listened. I even mentioned things only she would know...but still— nothing.” His eyes finally reached hers, “It was though I had never existed.”

_How?! How could that possibly be?!_

“She wasn’t alone either. There was a man with her. A man with blue skin and tiger eyes...just like her.” His countenance was slipping into something despairing, and yet, there was a smile forming on his lips, “She wasn’t alone in the universe after all. And I could tell...she was so happy.”

Eris felt her lips beginning to tremble, and she clenched her jaw tightly. That smile on his face—Oh, how awful it was to see the sincerity of his happiness at Orin’s own! It wasn’t fair!  
  
“I pretended to be a passerby needing repairs. I put on a façade, just so I could watch her a little longer. To learn the truth.” His smile faltered for the briefest instant, “But she and this man—Namqi....” He paused once more, his eyes searching the air for the right word, “He was a good man. He was everything I wasn’t...everything Orin deserved.”

_No...don’t say that..._

“If there is one thing I have never been in any lifetime...it would be selfish.” His eyes met hers,

“Think what you like of me. All of you.” He pressed his hand to his chest, and whispered, “But hand to my heart— I have never been a selfish man.”

Eris believed him. Still, it did not change the injustice that fate had bestowed upon him, and if he refused to acknowledge it, in this moment...she would feel the anger and sorrow on his behalf.

“So, I walked away.” He faded once more, lost in time, “All I ever wanted, was to make her happy. After all the pain and the loneliness...I thought I could fill that void for her. But I had been wrong. So, I let her go.”

Silence fell. They stared into each other, and the sorrow that hung around them, was almost too much to bear.

“That was wrong.” Her voice hitched in her throat as the words escaped, “You should have stayed...you should have said something.”  
  
And in a snap of a second he blinked, and Eli disappeared; leaving only The Drifter behind. Eyes darker, mouth twisted into a crooked grin, and he scoffed,

“And say what, darlin’? _Hey, honey, I’m home!_?”

His voice was gruff once more, and his crude manner had returned. Even Eris was unnerved by the sudden shift in demeanor, and she perceived the skill he possessed for creating character. It was almost terrifying. Regardless, the true matter at hand was the mystery of how such an unfortunate fortuity had befallen him. How could a woman possibly forget about her own husband? A man she had spent centuries with?

“What do you suppose happened?” She spoke softly, carefully, “How could Orin lose her memories to such an extent?”

The Drifter shook his head, and she noticed a tightening in his jaw. Irritation...anger rising.  
  
“I have a theory.” He nearly growled.  
  
“Yes?” Eris was on the edge of her seat, needing to hear this.

He released an exasperated breath, and then— “Gol.”

She blinked, “What is _Gol_?”

“Orin’s Ghost.” His nostrils flared, “Outta all the creatures in this universe...no one hated me more than that lil’ bastard did.”

Pure and unbridled malevolence consumed The Drifter’s visage, and Eris could see his body begin to shake with rage.

“Thought I was corruptin’ his Chosen. That I was leadin’ her down a path a’ destruction.” He scoffed again, “Turnin’ her away from the Light.”

His eyes glared up at her, “That’s why I hate Ghosts. They’re like cult recruiters.”

She couldn’t agree with him on that. Her personal experiences with her Ghost and those of her comrades had been constructive. Working together as partners and caring for one another as a family would. She could understand his anger, but to judge them all upon the actions of the few was misplacing his emotions. Just as some people could be debased, so too could some Ghosts. Anyone could fall...that was the reality.

“I think she died,” He went on, “I think Orin died in that battle, and ‘cause I wasn’t around...Gol took the opportunity to wipe her mind when he rezzed her.”

The theory made sense, but the motive wasn’t strong enough in Eris’ opinion.  
  
“You think a Ghost would have completely amended its Chosen’s mind just to escape you?”  
  
He smirked without humor, “Like I said, sistah— ya weren’t around durin’ the Dark Age. Ya didn’t see how nasty the Ghosts of the Warlords and Raiders could be. Don’t seem so far-fetched if ya had been there.”  
  
She couldn’t argue with him. There was truth in his words of her naivety to what his generation of Risen had experienced. She was still a child in comparison.

"That son of a bitch looked _right_ at me...” He slowly shook his head, eyes looking past her into another memory, “Gol looked right into my eyes and didn’t say a word.”  
  
Eris could feel the rage boiling inside of him, he was remembering the time when he had rediscovered Orin, and this revelation lent more credibility to his theory. Why would her Ghost not say anything if he hadn’t....  
  
She felt disappointment. Saddened at the thought that a Ghost could be malicious and cruel.  
  
“Even my Ghost tried to say somethin’, but Gol acted like he had never seen us before.” A bitter chuckle escaped him, and he ran his hands into his hair, “That clever lil’ shit! Gotta give ‘em kudos for pullin’ off such a scam...guess I gotta respect that.”  
  
“But wouldn’t your fireteam and the other Guardsman have said something—”  
  
He cut her off with a burst of laughter, “Are ya fuckin’ kiddin’ me?! I told ya they hated me! They definitely went along with it! An easy way of kickin’ my ass to the curb! They probably threw Gol a party over it!”

She fell silent. His opinions could be taken for a paranoia brought on by his lack of self-esteem, but Eris felt...she knew....deep down inside, that he was right. He had been rejected and discarded, and this notion both angered and saddened her. Now she knew why...when The Drifter looked at her, there wasn’t one crumb of pity in his eyes, and she feared for a moment that she had become as the very people she had abhorred the most—the ones who looked on in pity. Had he detected it in these eyes of hers? She prayed he hadn’t. In fact, that was something she could rectify—

She had made a promise to herself, that she would find the balance with him. To share more of herself. It would be awkward and embarrassing for her, that was certain, but Eris felt The Drifter deserved some solidarity from another person.  
  
_I never thought I would tell this to anyone..._

She could already feel a blush forming, and she forced herself to remain aloof as she began her story.  
  
“When I was much younger,” She cleared her throat, “There was this...boy. Lucas Antole. He was the Shipwright in the Tower, before Amanda Holliday’s time.”

She glanced to The Drifter, who watched her with pure interest.  
  
“He was very clever. Smart, capable, highly skilled as an engineer.” She looked away from him, and took a deep breath—

_Here it goes._

“And I had feelings for him.”  
  
There. Truth was out.

“He was very handsome and just—” She shrugged her shoulders, realizing that there was no other way to convey where she was going without it sounding gauche, “He was just _so cool_.”

She raised her fingers and even titled her head slightly in the manner of a gawky teenager. Demonstrating just how juvenile she had been in those days. Trying to make light of it all. She watched as the biggest smile spread across The Drifter’s face, and it made her blush harder.

“And the truth was—” She swallowed hard, Lord save her, “I had feelings for him.”

Eris didn’t think it was possible, but somehow The Drifter’s smile grew substantially, eyes big and bright, while a near hysterical wail escaped him.  
  
“Awww! Moonduuust!” Elbows back on his knees as he rested his chin in his hands, watching her with a mocking expression of endearment.

Heaven’s Mercy, she wanted to slap him and run, but she had told herself that she would do this.

“Stop.” She warned before continuing, and he giggled like a child.

She took another deep breath, fortifying herself to push through this, “I’ll admit, I had a “ _crush”_ on him. That is the proper term I think...”  
  
She honestly wasn’t sure what to call it.  
  
“Puppy love!” He nearly sang in response.

“However,” Her fingers twitched against the fabric she wore, “I really was not familiar with those things...romance, courtship...I’ve never—” She looked away from him, “I’ve never had any experience with them, so I really didn't know how to conduct myself.”  
  
She chanced a glance at him, and found his expression had morphed to one of curious confusion.  
  
“I truly did not know how I was meant to act, or what I was supposed to say. Most of the time, when I was around him, I would simply...say nothing. I’d let Ikora do all the talking.”  
  
“Hmmmm.” The Drifter looked pensive, and she wondered for a moment what he might be thinking.

“Before I joined Eriana’s fireteam, I was in another with Ikora Rey.” This was going to be the most difficult part to tell him, the part that hurt the most, “She was my best friend. We were sisters, practically joined at the hip. We did everything together.” A small smile curved her lips, “But secretly, I was envious of her.”  
  
Those days...when she and Ikora had been young Guardians, bold and full of wild ideas. How they challenged themselves, and laughed in the face of danger. They were two of a kind. But then—

“Ikora was the best at everything. The protégé of Osiris, acknowledged by the Speaker, inducted into the Praxic Order, champion of the Crucible...she was a celebrity. Everyone loved her, everyone wanted to be her friend, and men vied for her attention.”  
  
She turned her own attention to her hands once more; her saviors from the harshness she placed on herself. She couldn’t look at The Drifter, not yet.

“And so, it came as no surprise when Ikora started courting Lucas.” Eris shrugged, “Why not? She was perfect. Everything I wasn’t.”

Her words echoed his own from earlier, and when she spoke again, it was a susurrate on her breath.

“She was wiser, stronger, and prettier. What was I?”

She remembered the hurt, the envy, and how she had felt betrayed. But that was unfair—terribly unfair. Ikora hadn’t known.

“Ikora hadn’t known about how I felt for Lucas. That was one thing I never shared with her. I was too embarrassed to admit that I was experiencing those feelings.”

“Why?”  
  
At his question, she finally looked up to him, his mouth twitched in a confused pout, and his eyes reflecting his perplexity at her words. How could she explain it to him? Truthfully, she thought the answer would be obvious. So she shrugged and waved her hand as though presenting herself.  
  
“I was never very feminine, and as I said before, I never had such...tender feelings for another person. I never experienced a romantic pursuit.”

That wasn’t the entire truth. Ikora had always been in the spotlight, while Eris had stood in her shadow. A reminder that no matter what she did, Eris would never stand beside her as an equal in anything.  
  
“I just...walked away. I stood in the corner of the world and watched them in their glee.” She licked her lips, “It didn’t work out, obviously. Ikora and Lucas went their separate ways, but I never forgot about it.”

 _Tell him the rest. Tell him what happened._  
  
She channeled all her confidence and sat a little straighter, “It was the catalyst for the deterioration of our friendship. I felt that Ikora secretly saw me as her inferior, and with all the attention she garnered by those in power, with all the important and fanciful events she was invited to...she had made new friends. Better friends. Why was I even there? Everything changed, and Lucas was the final straw.”  
  
She paused to organize her thoughts, “I went and did what Hunters do best. I left.”  
  
Fleeing into the wilderness. Living for the thrill of the hunt. The smell of the woods after a rain, and the chill of the mountain air. She had lived to be free.  
  
“When I eventually returned to the city, everything had changed. Osiris was exiled, Ikora had become the new Warlock Vanguard—” She scoffed, “And I laughed, because— Of course!”  
  
She threw her hands in the air, and let them flop back down into her lap.

“She tried to reach out to me, to rekindle our friendship...but I was just so _angry_!” A hiss escaped her, “I think I wanted her to know what it felt like to be dismissed and unwanted.”

She fell silent. Ashamed at how cruel and immature she had been. Nevertheless, there was one final confession she had to make.  
  
“Years later, when I returned from the pit.” Her hands shaking, “When I was taken to the Tower...admitted to the hospital...I fell into comatose.”

_Lost on foggy trails and shadowed cliff sides._

“I lay there for weeks.”  
  
_The stars whispering secrets.  
  
_“When I finally awoke...when I returned to the world...Ikora lay beside me, holding my hand.”

The burn of the lights in her eyes— her new eyes. Chemical smells mixed with something else. She knew that smell...a blend of jasmine and magic. A turn of the head to find the woman she had called Sister. Asleep beside her, hand grasping her own, and streaks of tears on her face.  
  
_She hadn’t forgotten about me, after all.  
  
_That was it. She couldn’t say anymore, and she sat for a moment in her own contemplative silence. Perhaps...perhaps some other time, she would share more with him. But for now, this would do. She looked to him and was greeted with a gentle smile, watching her with a tenderness that nearly took her breath away, and she awed over the verifiable truth, that The Drifter never passed judgement.

_My unprejudiced miscreant._

She was content to just sit in his gaze.  
  
His smile grew into a show of teeth, and she recognized the look he was getting in his eye.  
  
_What now?_

Something was brewing...  
  
He leapt to his feet, and Eris startled at the sudden movement, growing more wary when he pointed a stern finger at her.  
  
“Don’t move, darlin’.”

And with that, he disappeared into the adjoining kitchen area, leaving Eris to sit in confused silence.

Ironically, his unpredictability was what made him predictable, and all Eris could do was sit and wait for the reveal of his scheming. She occupied herself by mulling over what she had told him, about her insecurities as a woman and a friend. She was ashamed of how she had reacted in those days, and thankfully, Ikora had forgiven her. Yes, they were friends once more, and Ikora practically mothered her from afar, but there was a truth Eris couldn't deny...that things were different now.  
  
She could hear The Drifter clinking around in the kitchen, and Eris’ attention was brought back to pondering what he was up to. But then, she caught a red glow out of the corner of her eye, and glancing over, she spied The Drifter’s Ghost watching her from his usual nest of pillows. Red eye boring into her with something akin to curiosity.

“Hello again, little one.” She greeted it politely.  
  
It sat unmoving, unspeaking, and Eris wondered once again at its lack of communication.  
  
_Is it broken like me? Like us?_

Perhaps. 

Her attention was pulled away when The Drifter reentered the room, and placed a glass before her. A drink— amber in color with ice, smelling sweet and sour, and Eris found herself leaning down for a closer look.  
  
“What is this?”

“A cocktail.” He winked, as he plopped onto his chair, a matching drink in his own hand.  
  
“Obviously,” She deadpanned, “But what _is it_?”  
  
“A potion of bourbon, love.”  
  
She cocked a brow. She wasn’t much of a drinker, never had been. Which, yes, in truth, caused many to question if she was absolutely certain she was a Hunter. Ikora included.

“What is in it?”  
  
He snorted, “Bourbon!”

Ugh! He could be so infuriating!

“If it’s a cocktail, you mixed it with something—what did you do?”  
  
He chuckled, tilting back in his seat, “Sistah, I spent more time as Bartender than I did as a Guardian. Trust.”

Ah, so he wanted her to take a suicide plunge? She eyed the drink a minute more, and sensing no reason not to indulge a little, she brought it to her nose. There was something very familiar about it, a fruit...she smelled a familiar fruit.

“Well, darlin’,” He cleared his throat, leaning forward as he raised his glass in a toast, “Here’s to solidarity.”  
  
She was taken aback, and he must have noticed, for his grin spread in uncontained glee, “Didn’t think ol’ Drifter knew that word, did ya?”

He winked, and she found a grin of her own. Raising her own glass, she knew exactly what she wanted to toast.

“Here’s to the unwanted losers.” She smirked, and he laughed.

“I’ll drink to that!”  
  
They clinked their glasses together, eyes locked in an unspoken something, as they brought their drinks to their lips.  
  
And as Eris Morn took her first sip of alcohol in a considerably long time, she fought back the biggest smile she hadn’t thought she was capable of.  
  
The burn of the bourbon was mixed with the sweetest pineapple juice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to see the tie-in stories of The Drifter's life with Orin in the Dark Ages, you can read them in "The Story of Her." Another ongoing collection.
> 
> Some of the things mentioned in this story, will be fully fleshed out there.
> 
> Let me know if you want to see more, you can even suggest a card game for them to play.


	4. Blackjack Part 1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to break this chapter into two parts. It will be continued in Chapter Five.

She made sure to kick the dust off her boots in the hanger before she set foot in the living area. A pointless act in her opinion, but still, she had promised she would abide by his neurotic little rules. When The Drifter had first granted her permission to enter the Derelict whenever she pleased, he had laid down some “rules”. The first, was to always dust her boots and cloak off before entering the living area, which seemed to be the most meaningless and befuddling task in Eris’ opinion; seeing as how The Drifter lived like a proverbial bachelor.

To say his place was a mess was an understatement. Empty food containers and take-out boxes, crumpled pieces of paper and food wrappers lay everywhere. Even bits and pieces of dismantled tech were always scattered about the place, and though Eris found it appalling to live in such squalor, she could form a pretty clear picture in her mind’s eye of his day to day dealings.

He always had some project in the works. Eris had come upon him before, hunched over a table with his entire focus fixated on some mechanical device, deft hands tinkering away. So immersed in his own world, he didn’t pay any mind to anything else, allowing things to fall where they may.

There had been several times where she had entered the room completely undetected by him. It wasn’t as if she had tried to maintain stealth—no. In fact, it was the opposite. Once, she had stood out in the open, merely a good ten feet from him, and yet, he hadn’t even noticed. She had taken that opportunity to watch him...study him as he assembled some gadget that she quite frankly didn’t care to know the purpose of. Face calm, yet his eyes were intensely fixated on every minute detail of his work.

She hadn’t moved, hadn’t uttered a sound. Just watched as he assembled parts and made adjustments with such a confident skill she had never before seen; not even with Amanda Holliday. His hands were covered in grease, and despite this, he would reach to the side every few minutes to pull chips from a bag; snacking as he worked. Eris had cringed, wondering how it was possible for him not to taste the filth. But the man was simply strange in that wise.

He must have caught her in the corner of his eye because he gasped and practically fell out of his chair, snapping back with a gun in hand, ready to take her skull out.

She never flinched.

_“Jesus H. Christ!” he had shouted at her, “What the hell, Moondust?! Ya tryin’ to scare me to death?!”_

_“Dare to dream.” She hadn’t missed a beat._

_“Oh, you’re freakin’ adorable!” He bowed forward, elbows on his knees, hand still at his chest as he fought to get his breath and heart rate under control.  
  
_ She had held her poker face good and strong, but secretly she had been smirking with the deepest of satisfactions. Any opportunity to ruin his day was a welcomed one. She liked that memory....it put an almost non-existent spring in her step.

Now, as she descended the metal stairway and crossed the threshold into the living area, she was once again assaulted with the sight of his organizational deficit. In fact, it appeared worse this evening, with an impressive pile of beer cans joining the usual trash and gadgets scattered about. She hoped he wasn’t drunk, she didn’t have the energy to tolerate any absurdity from him today.

She couldn’t see him, but she could hear him. He was in the adjoining kitchen area, the clinking of metal and the hiss of water on flame revealed he was cooking, and as she took a seat at the table, she was arrested by the smell of sweet meat.

“I’m here, Rat.” She called out, figuring she wouldn’t surprise him this evening.

“Hey! Gimme a sec!”

The deck of cards was waiting on the table, ready for their weekly game. This had become their tradition. Their normal. They’d play, they’d eat, and they’d talk...well, bicker was more accurate a word, and though they butted-heads at every single interaction, Eris couldn’t deny that his company and hospitality was a welcomed escape. He may have been the most obnoxious human being she ever met— even Cayde had been tolerable to an extent— Eris was glad to find someone who was willing to remain in her presence. Too many times had she sensed the unease others would emit when she was around, and how quickly they would find an excuse to leave.

Doom and gloom. Always unwelcomed.

Her attention shifted as the man in question poked his head out to fix her with a scrutinizing gaze. Nose scrunched and brow cocked.  
  
“Ya clean?” He asked.  
  
Here it was, his manic fixation on keeping mud and dust off the floor. She sighed and stood, lifting her feet so he could inspect her boots before raising her arms and turning about; revealing her clothes were clear of contamination.

“Satisfied?” She dropped her arms to her side, and took a seat once more.  
  
“Hmm,” He disappeared from view, “Just keepin’ things speckless, Three-Eyes.”

She scoffed. Surely he wasn’t serious!

“You keep your living area in complete squalor, and you’re concerned about a little dirt on your floor?”  
  
“But it’s _my_ mess, darlin’, it ain’t someone elses’ contaminatin’ my own.” He stepped out of the kitchen, making his way to the table with two steaming bowls in his hands.

She wouldn’t let his comment pass, it was asinine. “There is truly no logic in anything you say or do.”  
  
“But I keep things interestin’, don’t I?” He gave her a cocksure grin and winked, placing a bowl before her and handing over a set of chopsticks.

Senses awash with the aroma of his cooking, it occurred to her that the only time she ever truly ate a proper meal...was when she visited The Drifter. She wondered for a fleeting moment what Ikora would think if she were to learn of this. The Warlock Vanguard was always trying to parent her from afar and Eris found it quite irritating, but at the same time...it was nice to know that someone still cared in a way.

_Once...she had been my best friend....my soul sister..._

Eris shook the thought away. She didn’t want to remember those days at the moment, too disagreeable. So, she turned her attention to the meal in front of her. Golden noodles in a light broth topped with rich greens and pork. She could smell the lemongrass and the mint, and she wondered where he found the ingredients. He was shady in his dealings for certain, and she figured it would be pointless to ask him where and how he acquired minor luxuries. What did it really matter? Enjoy the spoils.

It was familiar...she knew this dish. What was it called? It was on the tip of her tongue...  
  
“Cao Lau?” She remembered.

The Drifter took his own seat, bowl in hand and smiled, “Yep. Classic comfort food.” He didn’t waste any time starting his meal.

“Are you Vietnamese?”

She had never considered his origins before. Honestly, did any of them truly know who they really were? Their race, their culture...whatever they came from in their past life—did any of it really matter anymore? Still, cultures were beautiful, and it was honorable to embrace one’s heritage.

He shrugged, swallowing a mouthful of noodles, “Theo nhur toi biet.”

That answered that.

Chopsticks deftly held, Eris gracefully fed herself, amazed at the sheer perfection of it. There were three things even she had to admit the Drifter was a master of: engineering, mathematics, and cooking. He had every right to be arrogant and proud of his work in those fields, but she made sure to never compliment him too often; it would make him all the more unbearable.

“Mon an that la ngon mieng.” She swallowed before speaking, and watched in amusement as he briefly choked on a bite of pork.

Snorting and coughing, it took him a second to compose himself, and when he looked back to her, his eyes were wide; studying her with an expression of pure shock and awe. She smirked.  
  
“Holy hell!” He burst out laughing, “I get more and more attracted to ya each time ya come by, Moondust!”

She sneered, continuing her meal. He also had a gift for making people uncomfortable.

“Cảm ơn bạn.” He bowed his head. 

She bowed back, “Cảm ơn bạn về bữa tối.”

He snickered, pure mirth written all over him, “Your accent is fierce— damn girl, mad respect!”

She could only shrug at the compliment. She was marginally flattered that he found her Vietnamese to be adequate, but in her opinion, she needed more work.

“When you’re immortal, you have plenty of time to study various subjects. Knowledge is power, after all.” She took a sip of the broth— it was perfection.

“Hmm...” He scrunched his nose, “Depends on what kinda knowledge you’re talkin’ ‘bout.”

“Explain.”

“Well,” his eyes went to the ceiling, pondering a moment, “Let’s say...your knowledge is knowin’ every knock-knock joke ever made. Or, ya only know how to fold napkins into cranes. Or, you’re one a’those douchebags who can only recall sports trivia.”

Eris blinked, “And the point you are trying to make is...?”  
  
“Absolutely nothing. But I just wasted three minutes of your life that you’ll never get back—” He shrugged with a sly smile, “And ya let me do it, darlin’.”

She watched him with something akin to discontent, but he merely laughed. She should have known better. The Drifter was ever obnoxious, and tended to prattle on about unimportant things, usually in an attempt to goad a reaction out of whoever he was in the company of. She wouldn’t respond, that would simply encourage him to say something more asinine, and she just wanted to enjoy her meal. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until it was laid before her.

But apparently, he had more to say—

“So,” he spoke around another bite, “What’re you?”  
  
“I beg your pardon?”

“What neck’a the woods do your ancestors hail from?” He clarified.

Eris froze, clearly not expecting him to be interested enough to ask her something like that, and honestly, she had no idea. She wished she could remember her heritage, give it the proper respect it deserved. But still, there were clues, and if she put them together logically...maybe she did have the answer.

“I’m unsure.” She began, “But I do speak Russian fluently. In fact, when Ares first resurrected me, I spoke Russian to him, not English. Speculate what you will from that.”  
  
The Drifter shrugged, “That makes sense.” He spoke with his mouth full, “Ares was your Ghost’s name?”

“Indeed.” She sneered at his lack of etiquette.

“Ha! Ares and Eris! I get it.”

She paused in her eating, eyeing him carefully, “What?”

He waved his hand, chopsticks still tucked in his fingers, as he searched for the right phrase, “The uh...the twins. Ares God of War, Eris Goddess of Strife, yeah?”  
  
She blinked, shocked that he actually knew that. Most people didn’t know.  
  
“I’m surprised,” The awe in her tone confirming her words, “You know your mythology.”

“Yeah! I like a good story. Myths got the best ones.” He went back to his meal, while Eris looked on.  
  
It never failed. The man always found a way to surprise her, and there was an ever growing vine of respect wrapping its way inside of Eris. Fulfilling that desire she secretly harbored to unravel the mystery that was The Drifter.

_This strange and yet...brilliant man._

A moment of silence passed as they ate, and though Eris sought contentment in the comfort the meal provided, she could not help but ponder the Drifter’s casual inquiry into her heritage. The truth was, that many years ago, before she lost everything—before the old Eris died—there had been a question...a curiosity that kept her up at night when she tried to sleep. A question that her Ghost couldn’t...or wouldn’t answer.

Perhaps The Drifter would have more insight into that which haunted her.

“Tell me...” Her eyes downcast, “Do you ever think about the day you were resurrected?”

She heard him scoff, and without hesitation, he spat, “No.”  
  
The answer was far too blunt, which raised Eris’ brow.  
  
“You never reflect on the day you were born anew?” She tried for further clarification, but he merely shoveled noodles into his mouth while shaking his head.  
  
“Why the hell would I think ‘bout that?” His tone had changed to one of barely concealed animosity, and Eris was all the more intrigued.

This was clearly a sensitive subject. Another taboo topic in his life that made Eris’ notorious curiosity swell. She watched him eat a little faster, eyes hyper-focused on his food with an expression of near savage anger. He wasn’t eating his meal, he was slaughtering it.

_Why is he so agitated?_

The mystery was growing in her mind, and making her anxious. Perhaps she could ease him into a more compliant mood; provide him with another avenue for solidarity. More personally, Eris could share another part of herself, find that balance she was seeking and maybe find another shard of relief from the torment bottled inside her.

Sharing a memory of the Eris Morn who went down into the pit and never came out.

And so she began—

“I was on the bank of a river when Ares found me.” She looked to her half-finished meal, and began to stir the noodles around. Needing something to occupy her hands, needing a physical distraction as she slipped into memory.  
  
“It was in the winter. My body was frozen and my lungs were filled with water.”  
  
She remembered the cold. The burning freeze of it biting into her as she took her first desperate gasp of air. Shaking, wet, and coughing liquid clear of her lungs. A warm sun trying its best above, but it was deep in the heart of a mountain range and the air would not give up the frost. Eris had screamed, scared...confused.

“It was obvious that I had drowned, but the how and why was the mystery.”

Ares had spoken gently, trying to calm her, but it had taken several minutes for Eris to find repose, and her body was shaking so violently it was painful. Ares tried to explain who he was and why he had come to her, but they needed to move quickly before she froze to death.

Struggling to her feet, like a child taking their first steps.

“Ares was so patient with me. Leading me to safety, out of the cold...to others who could help me before we journeyed to the city.”

She hadn’t looked to The Drifter yet, still focused on the food before her as she recalled every minute detail of her rebirth—Dressed in a long patchwork coat, thick boots lined in rabbit fur, she had been dressed for the cold, and yet...it hadn’t mattered at all.

Ares had taken her to a farm...or was it a ranch of some sorts? She had been too delirious from fear and cold to have paid attention to such a trivial detail. The family that lived there—the mortals who had refused to dwell in the Safe City— they had been so kind. Had allowed her a hot bath to thaw her bones, given her warm clothes to wear and food to eat. She had stayed with them for two days, until Ares finally coaxed her into leaving for the city.  
  
And when she had arrived...when she had... _returned_ —

She wanted someone to know this, someone besides Ikora, and The Drifter had validated himself to be worthy of knowing her deepest secrets. A year of time spent in each other’s company to form a connection so rare...so precious. But how best should she divulge this information she kept buried within?

_Just say it._

“Saint-14 knew me in life. Before I died.”

Silence fell. She could hear him pausing in his gluttony, so she raised her eyes to him. The Drifter sat with bowl in hand, chopsticks half way to his lips, and eyes watching her with the clearest consternation she had ever seen from him.

“Come again?” He deadpanned.

She knew he had _heard_ her, but she understood the struggle to comprehend it. Eris had grappled with this realization when Saint-14 had finally confessed that he had known about her, about her parents, about her life before the Light.

“He knew me in life. He told me.”

Where to begin? It was...difficult to explain, and in all honesty, Eris still struggled to understand it. But she would try.  
  
“When I made it to the city,” she took a deep breath, “when the walls were not yet completed...”

Snow covered walkways, and brightly colored canopies. The place was filled with life.

“I was walking through the marketplace. Ares was leading me towards The Speaker, saying that I needed to be presented as a new Guardian.”  
  
There were others like her, with Ghosts, and she marveled at them as she passed by. Some were tall and built for the fight, while others were geared for tactical precision, but they were all united under one common mission: to serve the Traveler and protect mankind.

“But as I walked...I heard a man calling out...calling a name...”

It meant nothing to her, so she hadn’t acknowledged it. But then, she realized...

_They’re speaking to me._

“When I had turned, there was a heavily armored man rushing to my side,”  
  
She had been intimidated by his size, having never seen such a powerful figure before in her new life. She nearly backed away.

“He was speaking to me, in Russian...asking where I had been and telling me that others had been looking for me.”

But then...

“He fell silent when he saw Ares.”

She remembered. Remembered how his form had frozen, his gaze fixated on her Ghost, head turning back and forth between the two. A question...an answer...a realization. And in that instant, Eris had seen something unbearably sad descend upon the mighty man’s countenance.

_“Sorry,” He had spoken in English, “I thought you were someone else.”_

“He had laughed and waved me off, acting as though he had made a mistake. Then he walked away.”  
  
She shook her head at the memory, of watching his back turn and quickly retreat. Casually strolling off as though nothing had happened. It left her more nervous and confused, and she had turned to Ares for explanation, but her Ghost had merely shrugged.

“I eventually learned his name was Saint, and that he was a Titan of great merit. Every time he was in the Safe City, I would seek him out. I wanted to know...I wanted to know who he had mistaken me for.”

She took a deep breath as she remembered the truth of what had transpired, “But every time I found him, he would laugh and wave it off. Assuring me it had been an honest mistake.”  
  
She knew he had been lying. That his liveliness had been a façade to hide a secret; to spare her pain. It made no difference though. Eris Morn was tenacious in her quest for answers. Years had passed, she had met and embraced Ikora as her sister, and through her, she had met Osiris.  
  
“When I met Osiris, the same thing happened. He had looked at me strangely...I could see recognition in his eyes, but it was followed by dismay. And I knew—”

The hand that held her chopsticks trembled just the slightest. “He too knew who I was...who I _truly_ was.”

She had then turned her attention to pursuing the Warlock for answers. Her bond with Ikora must have triggered something within him, for unlike Saint, he hadn’t been so casual with his dismissiveness of her questions. True, he had been irritated and annoyed at her constant badgering of him, which was no surprise as the Warlock had a reputation for impatience and a short temper, but finally, perhaps because of his adopted daughter—her best friend—Osiris had caved.  
  
“Osiris...he told me that Saint had lied. That there was so much more. But...he told me that whoever I once was, was not who stood before him. That I needed to accept that truth. That it made no difference.”  
  
 _We are born anew. A second chance._

“But still, I wanted to know. Even if it would never serve me.”

She had promised herself that.

“He reached out to Saint on my behalf, told him to meet with me.”  
  
In a garden at the edge of the Safe City, she waited beneath a willow tree, and Saint-14 had sat beside her upon a bench. He told her the truth—

“Saint told me,” she swallowed down the anxiety, “That long ago, he had known my parents. That they had been refugees brought to the Safe City by the Pilgrim Guard...”

Her eyes finally lifted to regard The Drifter, who watched her with an intensity that sent a chill down her spine. She steeled herself for what she was about to say.  
  
“A caravan of orphaned children who had survived a great massacre, in a village in the old Siberian territory.”  
  
Then she saw it— realization flooding his eyes! He knew exactly what she was speaking of, and Eris’ heart began to race.  
  
 _He knows! He...had be been there?!_

That thought...the thought that The Drifter had been there, had helped save her parents— it set a fire burning in her chest.

“He told me that my mother and father were quite young, and he had carried them to sanctuary. He would visit all the children whenever the Guard would return, he had been so eager to know that they were alright. That they were finding peace in the City.”

She couldn’t look at him anymore, The Drifter...his eyes were too intense. Too much knowledge swimming in them, so she looked towards the wall before continuing.  
  
“My parents...when they had grown, they married and had me.” She paused, taking a deep breath before revealing the truth that still stirred powerful feelings within her, “Saint told me, that on the day I was born...he had held me.”  
  
Sitting on that bench, her heart had fluttered at his revelation.  
  
“He told me I had been so tiny, and so precious.”

Voice trailing into a near whisper, remembering how Saint had revealed this truth. How sweetly he spoke, and how much love she could feel radiating from him at the memory.

“Osiris had too. He said the two of them had been there, and that Osiris had the honor of holding me as well.”

Her eyes were shaking, an itching within them as she turned her gaze back to The Drifter.  
  
“He wouldn’t tell me my real name though.” She nearly scoffed, “Saint said it wasn’t important and that I needed to understand that the past was gone. It was time to embrace who the Traveler had wanted me to be.”

She had felt anger towards him. The unfairness of it all. But she had been young and incorrigible back then. She hadn’t understood how right Saint had been not to tell her. It would have been nothing but a burden upon her mind.

“I had bombarded him with questions. Asking what had happened to my family, why had I been outside of the city when I was resurrected...but he couldn’t answer me. No, maybe the truth is he _wouldn’t_ answer.”  
  
She sat upon that notion for a moment, and realized that there was nothing really more to say. She had told The Drifter as much as she knew, and within the bigger picture, did it matter at all?  
  
 _No. I have lived three lives._

But still—

“I think about it sometimes. Even though time has passed and I have evolved into someone else...I still find myself wondering. But I will not bother Saint about it again.”

That was the truth. She had finished, and returned her attention to the man before her. The awe was still there. His eyes watching her as though she had just revealed something extraordinary, and perhaps, in the realm of their existence as Risen, she had. Eris waited for him to say something, hoping he would take the cue and share something of his own. It had felt strange to be the first to share. The Drifter was the real talker, always rambling on, or revealing private things when the air was appropriate. But now...  
  
 _Why isn’t he saying anything?_

He was still as a statue. Holding his meal up and poised to eat, but distracted at the sight of her. It was starting to unnerve Eris. Should she say something? Should she directly ask him for consensus?  
  
Then he laughed. Bursting into cackles of disbelief, and Eris felt her heart sink.  
  
 _He’s laughing at me...he’s actually laughing at me!_

Rage swirled inside her, and the fortitude she had taken so long to muster began to waver. How dare he!  
  
“Holy hell, hun!” His laughter triggered a cough, “That’s gotta be the most awkward thing, ever!”  
  
She blinked.

_What in the hell?_

“The freakin’ wrecking ball and his angry bird knew ya when you were born?! Shit! That’s gotta be weird for ya’ll!”

_Ohhh...._  
  
Realization set in. He wasn’t laughing at her, he was astounded, and this must have been his way of coping with uncomfortably shocking revelations. She had to admit, he wasn’t wrong. It was rather...weird, and at times she had found herself feeling awkward in the presence of the Pigeon and the Phoenix.

“I...suppose.” She admitted, feeling her anger beginning to dissolve. She couldn’t stay mad at his choice in coping mechanism. Everyone had their own way of reacting to strange things. Still, she wanted to knock that smile off his face.

“I don’t find it humorous.” Her tone reflected her conviction on the matter, and she sneered when The Drifter laughed once more.  
  
“Neither do I!”

His words said one thing, his behavior said another, and the contradiction was aggravating. The Drifter was a walking, talking headache.

His laughter was quick to die down this time, and she watched as he finally brought the bowl to his lips and downed the remaining broth. Wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve...it was like watching a ten year old.

“Hurry up and finish, Moondust,” he belched and plopped his now empty bowl onto the table, “We’re gonna be late.”

_Late? What on Earth—_

Her attention was torn away from the memory of her resurrection, to the matter now placed before her. Leaving the past to return to the present.

“Late for what?” There was apprehension slipping through her voice.  
  
He was up to something...again. She hated when he did this. That predictable unpredictability.

He smirked, drumming his fingers upon the table, and gave a simple: “You’ll see...”  
  
She didn’t like the tone, she didn’t like the look in his eye.

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what is going on.” Her voice was one of authority, and she fixed him with a challenging stare. Daring him to try and argue.

He merely scoffed at her. “Where’s the fun in telling? It’s a surprise!”  
  
She hated that word.

_Absolutely not!_  
  
“I greatly dislike surprises.” She nearly growled.

“Why am I not _surprised_?” He let out a bark of a laughter, “Ha! See what I did there? You ain’t surprised and I—”  
  
“Yes. I got it, Rat.”

Did he really think her so slow on the uptake?

He nearly bounced in his seat at her irritation, clearly enjoying the shift in mood, before leaning forward with the cockiest grin, “But you’ll like this one, Moondust. I promise.”

It was a conspiratorial whisper. The promise of something alluring, something worth the while.

Eris would be lying if she said she wasn’t intrigued. That curiosity of hers...always governing her. What could he possibly have in store?  
  
She narrowed her eyes, “I thought we were having our weekly game.”

“Oh, we are!” He stood, arms over his head as he cracked his back , “We’re just changin’ the venue.”

Her stomach dropped. She had grown comfortable and content with spending time with The Drifter in the confines of his living area. Switching up the rhythm of the melody she had grown accustomed to was not something she welcomed.

“I do _not_ wish to go anywhere.” Her posture had become rigid, defensive “If we’re not playing this evening, then I have no reason to stay. I will depart.”

She hoped he hadn’t heard her tone as fractious. She’d lose all credibility if he had.  
  
The Drifter watched her for a moment, a searching gaze moving over her face, and Eris stood her ground as he slowly sauntered towards her; leaning his hand upon the table with hip cocked, and lips smirked.

“Pandora...” He taunted, “Don’t ya wanna peek inside the box?”

_That scandalous rogue!_

How could he have come to know her so well? He was playing on her desire for answers. That curiosity that fueled her, drove her. By issuing that challenge, he had caused the inquisitive side of her to roar in need.

A second of silence passed as she met his challenging stare. If she gave in—he’d win, but if she refused—he’d also win, and she took a moment to marvel at how skilled he was at manipulation. He had it down to a science. Still...would it really be so dangerous for her to meet him head on? To accept the challenge of facing whatever he had arranged?

No. She sensed no threat from him. In fact, he was emitting an aura of honest excitement, and Eris had enough confidence in herself to be a good judge when reviewing situations and people’s intent. Fine, so be it. She would trust.

She raised her bowl to her mouth and quickly finished the rest of her meal. A clear signal she was onboard, and his smile grew.

“Alright, Rat.” Placing the bowl on the table, she stood to meet him, “Lead the way.”  
  
Then something happened— something Eris had never before seen from the man. In The Drifter’s eyes, there was a flash of something so bright...so thrilled, his whole form shook for the briefest of seconds. However, it came and went so swiftly, she questioned whether her eyes had been mistaken.

Any further speculation was abandoned when the Drifter wrapped his knuckles on the table.  
  
“Hey, Dumbass! Road trip!”  
  
He called out to the sofa, and Eris turned in time to see his Ghost rise once more from beneath the cushions. Floating towards them in what could be interpreted as a lazy manner.  
  
“Don’t forget the box!”

The Drifter advised his Ghost, and Eris watched as the little drone made its way towards the kitchen area, it’s eye catching her own, and Eris nodded her head in polite greeting. The Ghost kept its eye on her, even as it disappeared, flying backwards at this point, and Eris wondered for a moment why it watched her with such an intense gaze.

Her thoughts drifted back to her host’s words, however. Box? Why did the Ghost need to grab a box?  
  
 _What am I getting myself into?_  
  
“You said road trip, “ Eris pointed out, “Just how far are we going?”  
  
“Oohh, can’t say,” he winked, “Cause then you’d start guessin’.”  
  
He wasn’t wrong. She sighed.

“Listen, Rat—” She lifted her chin slightly to assert her dominance in this matter, “I don’t know what you’re up too, but make no mistake...I will not be a pawn nor a casualty in any scheme you may have concocted. I will play along with this little...misadventure of yours, but if you try anything that puts my well-being at risk...” She took a small step closer, eyes boring into his, “I will make sure you never have the ability to do it again.”

And when she had finished her hardly masked threat, his eyes widened. Jaw hitting the floor as he cringed back and let out the biggest howl of laughter she had ever heard. She watched him with a sneer of disbelief, but truly, she should have known better. Any form of aggression from her would have just been received with humor by him.

_What was I thinking?_

“Goddamn, Three-Eyes!” He nearly doubled over, “Ya gonna eat me, too?!”  
  
“Hmph.” Her nose crinkled.

Before she could say more, the Ghost had fluttered back into the room.  
  
“Alright,” The Drifter turned his attention to the little light, “Outta sight, outta mind.”  
  
But if he had expected the Ghost to dissipate, he was greatly mistaken. The drone merely hovered before his face, attempting to stare it’s Chosen down. A challenge in its visage.

The Drifter narrowed his own eyes, “I said, beat it! Disappear!”  
  
But the Ghost refused to budge, its red eye narrowing in a defiant stand against its orders, and Eris couldn’t help but find a semblance of amusement in its rebellious attitude.  
  
The Drifter sighed, “Ya wanna do this right now? In front a’ the lady?”

There was irritation in his tone, and the smallest _squawk!_ escaped the Ghost in return, taking Eris aback. It wasn’t speaking, but it was still communicating. But why? She couldn’t shake the feeling of something being terribly wrong.

The Ghost hovered a little closer to The Drifter, bringing them nose to nose, and she could see the man’s brow scrunch in annoyance.  
  
“Fine!” He finally barked, and Eris watched him reach to his hip, opening the pocket of his coat a little wider to allow the Ghost to slip inside; poking the equivalent of its head out. A little hitchhiker. The image nearly put a smile on Eris’ face, and she watched the little light’s red eye look at her with something akin to curious satisfaction.  
  
“But when we get there, ya get the hell out, got it?!” The Drifter growled down at his Ghost, giving it a light punch against the side of his leg. A _squeak!_ escaped the little drone at the impact, and there was a _zap!_ followed by a yelp from The Drifter. The Ghost giving him a static shock.  
  
“Ya lil’ bastard! I’m gonna stick ya in the microwave if ya don’t cut the crap!”

_No wonder they don’t get along...they’re two of a kind._

Having settled things, The Drifter strolled past her towards the entrance.  
  
“Come on, darlin’, we’ll take one’a mine.”  
  
One of what? Ships? How many did he have?

She complied, following him to the walkway and back towards the hangar. Their boot falls echoing on the metal, while the hum of the ships life-source flowed around them. She tried to focus on the sound. Trying to texturize it in her mind’s eye in order to quell the anxiety simmering within her. The nervousness of what was to come. She trusted him...but at the same time...  
  
“Is this going to be an all-night event?”  
  
“Nah!” He spoke over his shoulder, “Just a few hours, tops. Trust.”

“Hmph.”

She heard him chuckle, “Relax, hun. Think of it as an adventure!”

She had had her fill of adventures. She really didn’t need anymore. Nevertheless, she couldn’t resist the pull to see how this evening was going to play out.

They made their way down a set of stairs, across a catwalk, and down another flight to bring them to the hangar. Several jumpships of various makes and models were docked, including Eris’ own, but they passed right by it and made their way to one of The Drifter’s own. She stood back, and watched as he prepped it, sliding the airlock glass open for them to enter, and she took a moment to inspect it.  
  
A CSX40. Nothing fancy. In fact, it was scratched and scorched with obvious signs of abuse, and certainly a commercial model, as it featured two seats within its cockpit; allowing for a passenger or a co-pilot. At least the ride to this mystery destination would be a smooth one. These did have a reputation.

The Drifter hopped up the ladder and slid into the pilot’s seat with little effort, and she could still see the little Ghost’s red eye watching her from his pocket.

“Well! Get in, loser!” He called down to her with a giant grin.  
  
And with a deep breath to steel her resolve, Eris Morn began to climb into the cockpit. Reminding herself to trust him, to give him the benefit of the doubt. How bad could it be?

* * *

**CONTINUED IN CHAPTER FIVE.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the game if you hang around Saint-14 long enough in the hangar, he will reveal to you through idle dialogue that he knew "Miss Eris Morn" when she was a baby. He will tell you that he held her. So, Saint-14 and Osiris knowing her before her death and resurrection is canon. Quite an interesting fact to speculate about.
> 
> Chapter Five will feature their game of Blackjack. Stay tuned.  
> \-----------------------------------------------------  
> Theo nhur toi biet: “As far as I know.”  
> Mon an that la ngon mieng: “The food is delicious.”  
> Cảm ơn bạn: “Thank you.”  
> Cảm ơn bạn về bữa tối: “Thank you for dinner.”


	5. Blackjack Part 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope it was worth the wait.

Ceres. He had taken her to Ceres. She wanted to kill him.

The moon was a port, for lack of a better description. A neutral zone where weary travelers could come to rest, seek supplies and repairs, or simply indulge their vices without care. Inns and bars, gun-runners, drug mules, mercenaries, prostitutes, pirates—they all congregated here like rats in a waste management facility. So, it was no surprise that The Drifter would be comfortable and familiar with such a place.

The smells of rocket fuel, cooking food and filth struck her senses, and the neon glow of the signs that stretched down the length of the street hurt her eyes. People were laughing, shouting, walking about in droves, and Eris felt her anxiety bubbling over. It was too much...too much! A sensory overload. Turmoil on her already sensitive constitution.

_They’re too close...they’re all too close! Keep away!_

She was not stable enough for this, and she needed to let The Drifter know. Demand that he take her away from all this.  
  
“I want to leave.” She announced, as a raucous group passed them.

“Aw, come on, Moondust!” He spun on his heel to face her, “Ya haven’t even given it a chance!”  
  
The sound of arguing followed by the shatter of glass was all she needed to make her decision.  
  
“And I don’t intend to. Take me back to the ship immediately.”  
  
She caught sight of his Ghost, still in his pocket, looking up at her carefully, and she thought for a moment that the little light might be able to sway the situation. Transmat her away. Or maybe...she could even draw her orb from the pouch at her hip...leave on her own. But The Drifter ceased her thoughts as he leaned down to match her eye-level, which wasn’t much of a stretch—he only had maybe an inch or two on her.

“Where’s yo’ spirit of adventure, hun?” His grin spread as he leaned in closer, “What happened to the Hunter?”  
  
Oh, he was fighting dirty. Taking a shot at her nature in order to stir a passionate reaction out of her. To prove to him that he was mistaken, that she was bolder and tougher than he took her for.  
  
Well...unfortunately, it was working.  
  
She glanced down at his Ghost, whose eye shifted back and forth between her and its Chosen. Clearly unsure who was going to win this argument. She inhaled deeply and slowly released her breath, eyes of steel locked onto his.  
  
“Where are we going, Rat?”  
  
His smile was all teeth now, “That’s my girl!”  
  
Then he turned his attention to the Ghost. “Alright, ya had your little nosy joy-ride, now drop me the box and get!”  
  
Eris watched as the Ghost glared up at his Chosen, before materializing a small metal box which The Drifter caught midair. The Ghost then gave her one last look before it dissipated, and Eris took a moment to eye the object in The Drifter’s hand. It almost look like an ammo container, and she wondered what was in it, but her thoughts shifted and she stiffened when The Drifter brought his hand to her shoulder, steering her forward. Thankfully, he remained respectful, as he neither pushed nor added uninvited pressure to her, and Eris allowed him to lead. Navigating through the throngs of people, she cringed at the sounds and smells, as her anxiety rose to the surface.

It never used to be this way. It had never been this way. She proudly walked with her head held high, open and willing to experience everything the universe had to offer. She couldn’t get enough of it.

But now—

She curled in, shoulders rolled forward and head down as she shuffled along, like a cringing animal. A barrier to keep the world at bay. She tried to fixate on something—a distraction. So, she selected the clack of her boots upon the street. Counting her steps.  
  
 _1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 —_

It was helping. But then The Drifter broke her focus.  
  
“Ya know, ya make yourself an easy target if ya hunch like that.”

She blinked. Was he seriously criticizing her posture?

“You’re going to speak to me about carriage?”  
  
The Drifter didn’t walk so much as she sauntered. Laziness permeating.

“I’m just sayin’, hun!” He lowered his hand from her shoulder, and fell into step beside her, “In a place like this, ya wanna be a little more confident.”

She bristled. How naïve did he think she was?! Was he actually lecturing her on survival tactics?!

“I have three eyes that drain paracausal ooze down my face,” her tone was one of pure animosity, “Do you actually believe anyone is going to pick a fight with a creature such as I?”  
  
Any attempt to intimidate him with her words was lost. Instead, he broke into rolls of laughter, hunching forward as he walked beside her.  
  
“Jesus, sistah! Could’ya be anymore gloomy?!”  
  
He turned to her with humor in his eyes, but she met him with a cold stare. Letting him know that she didn’t find it amusing at all. He caught on, she knew he did...but this was The Drifter. He merely laughed harder. Apparently, he was incapable of taking her seriously. For a brief moment, she considered giving him a demonstration of her well-honed prowess— put him in his place. Make him fear her. But no, what good would that truly do for her?  
  
 _It would feel damn good._

Her thoughts were cut-off as The Drifter abruptly halted in the street, and Eris nearly stumbled as she matched his suspension. Her brow crinkling in question.  
  
“We’re here!” He announced, and gestured with his chin to a heavy rusted door on their right.

It was a classic hole in the wall establishment, and from inside, she could hear voices trying to speak over the heavy bass of music.

She blinked, “A bar?”  
  
“Nope, a pub. There’s a difference.”

She eyed him and his condescension.

“You brought me to a pub?” It wasn’t really a question, so much as she was merely expressing her disbelief.

“Yep!”

“We’re playing cards here?”

She then had a thought that made her stomach drop. A sickening thought. When people played cards in bars or pubs...it was usually with groups.  
  
 _Oh no..._

“Did you arrange a game?” She had to repress the urge to growl.  
  
“Sure did!” His smile was infuriating, and he knew it.

Her fingers were curling into fists at her side, trying to still the shaking; his time not in anxiety, but in rage. She did not wish to associate with anyone! Especially in a place like Ceres!  
She was leaving.  
  
“I’m out.” She turned on her heel.  
  
“Woah! woah!” He chuckled, grabbing her arm to hold her in place, “Come one now! Just gimme a chance, here!”

She could break his hold....break his arm and go home, but something was stilling her. It was his choice in words...he had asked that she give _him_ a chance, not give _it_ a chance, and for reasons yet unknown, that struck a chord in her. She glanced over her shoulder at him, a question in her gaze, but faltered when she noticed the look in his own. There was humor in his expression still, a playful grin upon his lips, but his eyes...there was something that didn’t belong. Worry. There was a pleading worry directed at her. Was he...was he actually worried that she would leave?

_Why? What is so important about this?_

Despite the suspicion and the irritation, Eris felt a softer more sympathetic part of herself rise to the surface. It was too pathetic—she wouldn’t be so cruel. Besides, he had made her dinner, and a very satisfying one at that.  
  
“Hmph.” She sighed, and that was enough to bring the elation back into his eyes.

Without another word, he grabbed the handle of the door and pushed it open—

The place was hazed in smoke, and packed with the sort of characters one would expect to find in such a place. Tables were shared by groups drinking and gambling away, and Eris cringed at the high energy of the room. She greatly disliked rowdy atmospheres, it was very much a contributor to her avoidance of festive events within the City. Much to Ikora’s dismay.

The smell of sour liquor and various tobaccos were too strong for her.  
  
 _Breathe. Just breathe._

She reminded herself to stay calm in the face of adversity. Socializing was her greatest fear, but she knew she was strong enough to get through this, and as strange as it was, there was a comfort in knowing that she wasn’t stepping out alone; The Drifter was with her. It lessened the anxiety by a modest amount.  
  
It was all lost when The Drifter suddenly let out a long loud howl beside her, causing Eris to nearly jump out of her skin. She whipped around to see her companion with his hands cupped at his mouth.  
  
“What are you—”

But her question was cut off as he called out to someone across the room—ignoring her completely.

“WHO DAT BITCH OVER THERE LOOKIN’ ALL FINE AND SHIT?!”

Eris flinched at his crass behavior, becoming embarrassed as every eye in the room looked in their direction. She began to worry things would head south thanks to his big mouth, but his antics were met with laughs and exasperated groans. She could hear familiarity in their tones and words—clearly, they knew The Drifter, and there was a divided opinion of him. Eris understood completely.  
  
A high pitched howl answered:  
  
“WHO DAT UGLY FUCK OVER THERE WALTZIN’ BACK INTO MY LIFE LIKE A BOSS?!”

A woman’s voice called back, and Eris turned just in time to catch sight of the smallest Awoken woman she had ever seen leap over the counter of the bar and run full speed into The Drifter’s arms; a squeal of delight escaping her. Eris flushed as she watched the tiny woman lock her legs around The Drifter’s waist, who spun her around with a huge smile. Clearly, there was more than just a familiarity between them, and Eris couldn’t help but feel their...near intimate greeting towards one another was highly inappropriate in her presence.  
  
 _Why do I even care?_  
  
She couldn’t help it, she didn’t like the sight of them behaving so inappropriately in public. A prudish air had come to her with age, but perhaps it wasn’t just that. Maybe the trauma had contributed to her inability to abide displays of affection. Regardless, she wanted them to stop. Luckily, they did, The Drifter carefully untangling her from himself and lowering her to the floor.  
  
She really was petite! Her head came to The Drifter’s sternum and she couldn’t have been more than ninety pounds soaking wet.  
  
“You lazy son of a bitch! Ya never write! Ya never call! What the fuck, Ming?!”  
  
 _Ming?_

She thought his name was secretly Germaine. It had been whispered to her long ago by her...unwelcomed companion. Then again, he preferred to afford himself some level of anonymity, and more than likely had given different names to suit the character he was trying to portray. Eris wondered how many he had used over the centuries.  
  
“I thought absence makes the heart grow fonder, ya little shit!” The Drifter retorted.

The little Awoken girl scoffed, smoothing down the tank-top she wore as she chanced a glance at Eris.  
  
She was pretty. Very pretty, but all Awoken were. Ginger curls and white dots along her cheeks accented her periwinkle skin. Her yellow eyes were as fiery as her hair, and Eris watched as they moved over her form. Curiosity and surprise filling them.

“Who’s your friend, Ming?” She offered Eris a polite smile, but her eyes...not so much.  
  
“This,” The Drifter turned towards her with great gaiety, like he was presenting something special, “Is Eris Morn.”

If she was expected to be just as enthusiastic, they’d both be disappointed. She merely nodded her head in greeting, as the Awoken girl simply nodded back, her eyes chancing another look-over.

“And this—” The Drifter gestured towards the Awoken girl, “this little country-fried biscuit is Aida.”

Another polite smile, but there was an awkwardness that hung in the air. Despite the bravado and the witty banter, something felt off.  
  
 _Are they former lovers?_

Eris wondered if she was being introduced to an ex. Someone who had come after Orin. If so, then she was appalled that he would be so classless. Wasn’t there an unwritten rule about these sorts of things? Then again, Eris wasn’t the new woman in his life, so there shouldn’t be an issue. She honestly didn’t know how relationships and romances worked, she had never had one.

_He has a taste for Awoken women it seems._

And she instantly chided herself for thinking that. Why was she feeling...catty all of a sudden?

“Welcome to my humble establishment, Eris.” Aida smiled.  
  
So, she was the barkeep? That certainly was a bit of a surprise. With all the savage and churlish patrons that filled her tables, Aida’s stature certainly didn’t give her an appearance of authority. But appearances are deceiving.

She watched Aida turn her attention back to The Drifter, “The dream team is at the back table.” She paused, eying him with clear suspicion, “What’s up, Ming?”

Clearly, she too knew him well-enough to question his motives, which merely kindled Eris’ anxiety.

“Just a little pow-wow!” He smiled reassuringly, “For ol’time’s sake.”  
  
“Mmhm.” Aida didn’t buy it, “Well, if you so much as scuff my floor with your boots, I’m taking it outta your ass.”  
  
This woman didn’t mince words.

The Drifter cringed back, chuckling like a madman. Seems Aida too was a victim of his inability to take threats seriously.

“You wanna drink?”  
  
She had turned her attention back to Eris, offering refreshment, but Eris wanted a clear head for whatever was to come, and she shook her head, “No thank you.”

“Gimme a good ol’ fashioned, Ol’ Fashioned.” The Drifter declared, “Ya know what I like.”  
  
A snort came from Aida, “Not anymore.” And she motioned for them to follow her.  
  
That statement was laced in sarcasm and crude innuendo, and Eris was now convinced that she was in fact an ex-lover.  
  
“Ouch! Bitch!” The Drifter mocked, and as they walked along, Eris could see faces turning towards them. They had become the center of attention, even if for a fleeting moment. But regardless of how casual their gazes were, it was hell for Eris. This is why she didn’t go out in public. This is why she avoided crowded places. They were looking at her...judging her.

_Breathe. Step. Breathe. Step._

“Damn girl!” The Drifter declared, glancing around, “Ya really put this place together!”  
  
“Uh-huh, and I intend to keep it this way.” She eyed him over her shoulder. A warning.

Had he done something before? Eris nearly rolled her eyes at her own thought. Of course he had, that was a given.

“Come now, darlin’!” The Drifter feigned offense, “Ya bustin’ my balls already? I just got here!”

Aida stopped in her tracks, pivoting to face The Drifter, “I ain’t yet.”

And with that—Eris watched in complete shock as the little Awoken girl cup-checked him. A firm, swift punch right into his crotch, and with a gasp and a yelp, he doubled over. Clasping at himself in pain.

"Now I have." She spoke with a sly grin.

“What the fuck, Aida?!” His voice had cracked. Higher pitched now, and Eris actually found herself struggling to restrain a laugh.

“What?” The other girl taunted, “It ain’t like you’re usin’ them!”  
  
Yellow eyes darted to Eris with a knowing wink, before quickly turning away to waltz behind the bar and begin his requested drink. He gasped, and groaned and swore under his breath as he hobbled forward and Eris wondered if she should issue the killing blow to his ego and offer him assistance. But before she could speak, a deep booming laugh reverberated around them, and Eris looked to see a massive Cabal male leaning against the counter. Watching The Drifter in the purest expression of amusement that anyone could recognize.

“Oh, fuck off Marius!” The Drifter growled as he leaned upon the counter, Eris coming to stand beside him.  
  
“Uh-oh,” The Cabal—Marius’ voice was a heavy bass, “I think you made him mad, Aida...”

The girl gasped dramatically, “Oh no!”

Did The Drifter know everyone in the place? She wouldn’t be surprised, but there was concern about that thought if it were true. How many enemies did he have? And were any of them here in the town? She would not become a target because of his irresponsibility. She watched him for a moment, hissing in pain as he slowly righted himself. Making an adjustment before standing. He cleared his throat and glared at Aida, who merely smiled charmingly as she passed him his requested drink.  
  
“Well,” Her voice was bright and chipper, “I have other customers more important than you! Be good, now!” And with that, she frolicked off, disappearing around the counter and into the crowd.

“Chó cái.” The Drifter muttered under his breath, and took a sip of his drink. The evening had certainly grown more interesting, that was for sure, and Eris thought back to the Drifter’s earlier words to her...that she would like the surprise he had in store. Honestly, the sucker punch to his groin had certainly made the entire trip worthwhile in her opinion. She was feeling more...encouraged now. Perhaps a little playful banter at his expense would help her get through the night.  
  
“Unfinished emotional business with the ex?” She deadpanned, allowing the smallest smirk to tease her lips.  
  
She watched his brows furrow, as he swallowed another sip of his drink, “Huh?” There was confusion coating every inch of him, and Eris faltered for just a second.  
  
“Your ex...” She ventured, pausing as she watched his bewilderment grow before her eyes.  
  
“My ex? The hell ya talkin’ ‘bout?”  
  
Wait, was she wrong? “Aida.”  
  
A pause and then, “Aida?! My ex?!” There was so much disdain and disbelief in his tone, Eris knew instantly that she had misjudged the relationship.  
  
“UGH!” He snorted in disgust, “I’d rather castrate myself than dip into that!”  
  
A crude and unnecessary response, but his point had been made.  
  
“No—no,” He paused, face grimacing, “No! She and I never...nope! Ugh!”  
  
He downed his drink, placing the glass upon the counter with a harder Clack! then needed, and Eris realized in that instant, just how much she did not understand affectionate behavior. Even in her days as a Guardian, it was never something she familiarized herself with. “Nah. Aida used to work for me.” He explained, clearing his throat from the burn of the whiskey.  
  
Ah. That made much more sense. “One of your mercenaries from your days of piracy?”  
  
He shook his head, chuckling lightly, “Nope. From my days as a bartender. She was my Bar-back.” 

Oh. That did change the dynamic. But then why...why did Aida look at her with such, suspicion? True, the usual shock at her appearance had flittered across her eyes, but it had morphed into something...nearly, denouncing. As though she had seen Eris as an interloper. If she had been an ex-lover, it would have been understandable, but now... Her thoughts were interrupted as The Drifter placed his hand lightly on her arm once more, gently steering her away from the bar. 

“Let’s get our game on!” He announced. Smile back on his face, his walk more steady as the pain was clearly subsiding. Perhaps the drink had helped. They wove around tables, towards the back of the bar where a lone table sat near the wall, and Eris could see—

There were three of them, and they couldn’t have been more different.  
  
A strikingly handsome Awoken man with long gray hair lounged in his seat, nursing a drink as he eyed their approach. He looked young, but Eris knew their kind were deceiving in their physical appearances. He could have years on her.

Beside him sat a hulk of a human woman. Dark hair cropped close to her scalp, and skin like leather from overexposure to sunlight, she held herself with a stiff conviction that Eris sensed was more defensive posturing than casual manner. This woman clearly was a fighter.  
  
And lastly, a Fallen male in the garb of a Vandal, hunched forward on the table with two of his arms folded. He wore no banner, indicating that he served no house. He had chosen the path of a pirate or a mercenary most likely, and Eris caught sight of the blades at his sides; knowing his other hands would be quick to draw them if the need arose. In fact, she could see they were all armed, and decently so.  
  
What was The Drifter doing dragging her into a card game with them?

“You know, Drifter,” The Awoken spoke, “When you reached out to catch-up like old times, you didn’t mention these two were coming.”  
  
He gestured at the others, disdain written on his features as he clearly did not find pleasure in their company. The sneer on the woman, and the grumble from the Fallen showed their own agreement on the situation. They were not friends, their only connection was through the rogue at her side.

“I too am most curious.” The Fallen spoke up with a rasp layered in clicks. His English was quite good, considering the anatomical differences between Eliksni and human mandibles.

The Drifter chuckled, “Now, now gentleman—” The woman narrowed her eyes, but The Drifter went on, “Let’s be friendly, like! I was missin’ my mates, thought we could all get together for some drinks and a few laughs!”

He had turned up the charm, oozing charisma and mock sincerity.  
  
“Bullshit.” The woman growled, “What’s the job?”  
  
Clearly, they knew him far too well for his act to be truly effective, but at the same time, Eris herself felt she had grown to know him well-enough to understand that he wasn’t trying to fool them. He was merely goading them into something.

_What is he up to?_

The Drifter burst out laughing, but the others didn’t seem amused in the least.

“That’s why I love ya, Liana!” The Drifter grinned, but that merely earned him further expressions of distaste.

“The job...” He paused for dramatic effect, and Eris felt anger and worry rising at the thought he may have indeed dragged her into some illegal and corrupt conspiracy. She was ready to pivot right around and leave him to his provincial criminal life.

But then—

“...is to show my friend Eris here a good time.”

Stunned. Unsure what she had just heard, she turned to look at him as he placed his hand upon her shoulder giving it a slight shake. His grin never wavering.  
  
 _What the hell is he doing?!_

She glanced back to see every eye at the table on her, and she braced herself. She hated being the center of attention. Hated strangers looking at her the way they were now...because she knew exactly what they were looking at.  
  
“What the fuck is wrong with her eyes?”

There it was. The woman—Liana was it?—had been the first to say it.

Eris’ jaw tightened as she met the other woman’s judging stare straight on. She could see the confusion and the disgust in her gaze, and it was clear that she didn’t care in the least if she offended someone. Obvious arrogance at the idea that she could say and do whatever she pleased without repercussion. But Eris too could be just as carefree with her treatment of others.

“There’s nothing wrong with them,” Eris deadpanned, “I can see your inutile ubiety just fine.”  
  
If they were anything like The Drifter, then using larger more obscure words would be a great source of agitation, and sure enough, she watched the most subtle of tremors pass across the woman’s countenance. Her dander was up. Good.

A chuckle came from the Awoken, “My...what a titillating disposition your companion has there.”  
  
Eris’ eyes shifted to him, observing a smirk upon his lips as he watched her carefully. Smugness radiated from him, and Eris realized that this one was educated.

“I’m more curious why she appears to be leaking oil.” He finished.  
  
Eris knew what he was referring too, and she narrowed her gaze in return. Standing her ground, refusing to break contact with his lavender eyes. Despite the presence of an armed Fallen, and the massive physique of an embittered woman, Eris could sense that the slender Awoken before her was the most dangerous being at the table. Despite the lackadaisical air about him—a bored manner of pure indifference—Eris could feel it. He was a true threat.

She bit her tongue. Choosing not to use words in battle against this one, a firm bearing would suffice; demonstrating how his words held no power.

 _That’s not entirely true though..._  
  
Her stoicism was legendary. She would not cave.  
  
“Now, now guys!” The Drifter laughed, “Be nice! It’s her birthday!”

She whipped her head around to fix him with a raised brow, her expression one of pure irritation and confusion at his words. She was trying to read him, trying to figure out what he was up to, but his countenance was one of pure levity.

The others clearly didn’t buy it, and it was obvious The Drifter hadn’t intended for them to believe him anyways. This was his talent. This was his tactic for manipulation. Pretending to play dumb, pretending to be a bad liar in order to put others in a position where he could manipulate them. It had taken Eris over a year to fully realize his strategy, having fell victim to it several times; much to her chagrin. But she was all the wiser for it.

“Well, ladee-freakin’-dah!” The woman declared.  
  
“You are wasting our time, Drifter.” The Fallen commented, “More importantly, my time.”

The Drifter put a hand up in mock surrender, his smile bigger than ever, “Now, just wait a sec— there’s more!”  
  
He raised the metal box, gently shaking it from side to side in a taunting gesture.

“How would ya like to win back the loss we took at Loma Bay?”

The mood instantly shifted with the three individuals noticeably stiffening in their seats. Their eyes locked upon the box. It was though he was casting a spell upon them, and Eris wouldn't be surprised if he was. The lure of monetary gain. The Awoken was the first to break free of the bewitchment.  
  
“Interesting.” His eyes shifted to meet The Drifter’s, “All that wealth we lost because of your stupidity—can fit inside that little box?”  
  
How large of a loss were they talking about? Their demeanors were certainly well practiced, but Eris was quick to catch the most subtle of reactions, and clearly, they were intrigued.

A chuckle from her companion and she watched as he stepped forward and plopped it down on the table, flipping the latches open with a heavy click that could even be heard over the music. He lifted the lid, presenting its contents and Eris Morn felt her jaw nearly hit the floor.  
  
She wasn’t the only one, the other three sat a little straighter in their seats, an audible gasp escaping the woman as she leaned in a little closer.  
  
“Holy shit!” She hissed, while the Fallen mumbled something in Eliksni under his breath.

Eris didn’t blame their boorish reactions. She herself was finding it difficult not to gape. For in that box, was something she never thought she’d ever see with her own eyes.

_Widows Tears!_

Pearl like jewels shaped as teardrops. They were iridescent, like a bubble reflecting light as it floated through the air, and they were glowing in the dim light of the room.  
  
How? How did he get all these?! They were extremely rare, could only be found on Titan, and The Drifter had hundreds of them! The legend of a Goddess whose consort had been slain, and in her grief, she shed tears from heaven. But as they fell from the sky and into the seas of Titan, they had hardened and washed upon the shores. So goes the legend, and how they got their name. But Eris had never actually seen one in person, and now, within that box...sat a fortune!

Why would he bring these to an offhanded card game? That was too high a gamble.

A scoff passed the Awoken’s lips, leaning back in his seat with a slight shake of his head. He looked to The Drifter,  
  
“All that on the line just to entertain your aberrant little friend here?” He gestured towards Eris.  
  
“That’s right,” The Drifter smirked, “This is our buy in. A friendly little game o’cards to kill the evenin’”

They all studied him a little longer. An analysis and a calculation passing through them all, determining if they could trust the situation. The younger looking man’s gaze turned to the others beside him, and Eris watched as a silent agreement passed between the three. They were in, she could see it. It was too good a profitable opportunity to pass on.  
  
“Aida!” The Awoken called out, tilting further back in his seat to catch sight of her across the room, “Let’s have a game!”  
  
Eris’ attention turned towards the bar, where she watched the little barkeep pull something from under the counter, tossing it to Marius who proceeded to throw it across the room towards their table. The Fallen caught it effortlessly with his third arm before sliding the object across the table to the Awoken, and Eris could finally see that it was a sealed pack of cards. Fresh, no tampering.

“So,” The Awoken smirked, “who do we have the pleasure of entertaining?” He eyed Eris as he popped open the pack and began to shuffle.  
  
Eris returned his stare with confidence, “Eris.”

He nodded his head in a slow gesture of etiquette, “Welcome, Eris. I’m Ophed. That’s Liana,” he jerked his chin towards the woman beside him, “and Niliks.” 

The Fallen raised two fingers in a lazy greeting, while Liana merely scowled in her direction. Eris didn’t greet them. To do so would paint her in a weaker light, so she kept her jaw firm and her eyes fixed upon them. That was, until The Drifter chuckled beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder to gently coax her into a chair at the table; pulling up his own to sit beside her.  
  
“Alright, alright, alright!” He moved his box of teardrops between them, giving her access to her own ante. “Let’s get this game goin’! What’s the play?”  
  
Ophed gestured to Eris, “Lady’s choice.” And instantly, all eyes were on her once more.

She felt a rush of discomfort at having to be the center of attention once more, and even more awkward when she couldn’t think of what to say. They wanted her to pick the game, the game that a fortune was riding upon.

Her eyes glanced around the table, Liana watching her with great impatience, while Ophed and Niliks looked on with a stoic curiosity. Eris felt her anxiety growing by the second. She didn’t know what game to play...and honestly, she didn’t want to play at all! She just wanted to leave, to get far away from these fiends and never see them again! Her hands were shaking in her lap, and she tried hard to steady them...tried hard to ground herself—

_1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7—_

Her counting ceased when a light pressure met her hand beneath the table, and all at once, her trembling ceased. Her breath catching in her throat when she realized she was feeling the back of The Drifter’s hand pressing gently against her own. A gesture of reassurance, to still her restlessness.  
  
She took a second to glance his way, finding him directing a small smile at her, and she felt her unease slowly warm into something of gratitude. He was letting her know— he had her back. There was nothing to worry about.

She knew what game to choose.

Her eyes looked to Ophed, “Blackjack.” She spoke with finality. A simple and clean game combining strategy and luck.

“Alright,” He placed the deck in front of her to cut, and as she obliged, he unsnapped a pouch from his hip, placing it upon the table.

“The ratio is three to two.” He went on, pulling the flap of the bag back to reveal a collection of silver coins.

At his example, the other two brought their own bags to the table. More silver and glimmer joining the game.

“Minimum is six-hundred silver equivalent.”

Eris paused...that was a high minimum, and she had no idea of the value of Widow’s Tears; uncertain how many she should lay. But The Drifter must have sensed her apprehension, for he reached into the box and removed one teardrop, placing it upon the table. Eris took the cue and grabbed one of her own to lay before her, hoping the casualness of the gesture didn’t betray her ignorance in the matter.

The fact that Ophed was establishing such a high bet drove home how serious he was in recuperating the aforementioned loss The Drifter seemed to have played a role in. It brought worry to the forefront of her mind, for if they truly felt they were owed, would they resort to cheating and dirty tactics?

Ophed began the deal. Two cards for each of them, and two for himself.

A NINE and a FOUR lay before Eris, while the face-up card before Ophed was a SEVEN.

The trick with this game was to only focus on the dealer, and Eris paid the others no mind as she contemplated the THIRTEEN she held.  
  
Clockwise from Ophed, Drifter would be the first to make a move, and Eris glanced at his hand finding a FIVE and a SIX. He’d be making a draw for certain.  
  
Sure enough—“Hit.” He signaled, and was promptly given a THREE. Not strong.  
  
Her turn. “Hit.”  
  
A FOUR joined her cards, bringing her to SEVENTEEN. She could stand on that, but she would wait for Ophed to make his choice.  
  
After the others had made their moves: Niliks and Liana both taking hits, Ophed peered at his face-down card and took a hit for himself. An EIGHT joined the SEVEN, and Eris considered the odds of his bottom card sitting low. He’s going to stand on this.

“Hit me.” The Drifter declared. A TEN landed on his other cards. “Shit!” He chuckled.

A bust. But there was something in his manner that made Eris believe he knew that would happen. That he was taking the loss the first round. He was a mathematical prodigy—he could count the cards easily.

Eyes on her, she paused as she considered what Ophed could have. It had to be a low card...it had to be. Her eyes shifted to Niliks and Liana’s hands— SIXTEEN and SEVENTEEN respectively. The card combinations in a fifty-two pack left her with the possibility that her decision would either produce something too high or even her out.

Should she gamble with such high stakes? The wealth The Drifter had brought to the table...the pressure and anxiety of being responsible for its loss was not something she needed on top of her own personal issues.

Still...there was a feeling....a gut-feeling, and if she was right...

“Hit me.” She muttered.

Ophed cocked a brow, Liana scoffed, and from the corner of her eye, she could see a grin forming on The Drifter’s lips as he stroked his beard.

With a shake of his head and an ironic smirk, Ophed granted her request—and down came a THREE. She stood at TWENTY and all motion halted at the table. A chuckle from Niliks, a bark of laughter from The Drifter, and a grumble from Liana as Ophed’s eyes met Eris’ own. His face remained impassive, but there was interest in his stare. A second’s pause and then he lightly scoffed, invoking his right as the dealer to halt the round by flipping his bottom card over, revealing a FOUR. He held a NINETEEN.  
  
She had won.

“Well played.” Ophed chuckled, but there was something akin to suspicion in his tone. He collected up the bets and slid them to Eris.

“Hey, my gal here knows how to play!” The Drifter announced with pride, “I promised ya’ll wouldn’t be bored!”  
  
“Curious,” Liana sneered, “Where’d ya find this one?”

Eris’ eyes narrowed at her tone and choice of words. What did she mean by _“this one?”_

A laugh from The Drifter, “She’s my Sister!”

Before Eris could even react to his words, he had shoved his cheek against her own, the whiskers of his beard scratching her skin.

“Can’t ya see the resemblance?” His smile was all teeth.

Eris flinched, leaning away from him, and observed that Liana was clearly unamused. Her glare harsher than before.

“Cute.” She sneered.

From beside her Niliks refolded his arms, and chuckled, “You all look the same to me.”

It was a jeer, but still a curious idea. That to the Fallen, all humans looked the same. Interesting thought, and Eris could relate in a fashion. Her eyes...the eyes she now possessed, they didn’t see the same as her human one’s had. Light and shadow shifted differently, color was ever changing, and though she could make out the features of people she addressed, they would waver. She was used to it by now.

Ophed said nothing as he dealt a new hand, a smile on his lips that didn’t reach his eyes, and Eris chose to ignore them all as she noted her new cards. FIVE and FIVE. TEN total to begin, while the Awoken also matched her hand with his own KING. This was a true gambling scenario, as she knew for certain that he held a higher hand than she. Whatever card lay beneath would trump her.

She took her minimum and placed the ante on the table as the other’s followed suit.

The Drifter took his turn, a SIX and a TEN giving him SIXTEEN, which was not a good hand to begin with. Most people would stand, but not The Drifter, drumming his fingers on the table, he declared. “Hit.” And Eris watched as a FOUR came down. TWENTY.

It was a good play, but also a lucky one. He had broken the bad hand and could possibly win this round against the Dealer. But it was Eris’ turn now, and sitting with doubles on the table...she made a judgement call. Something brazen, and yet, very, very stupid. She took two teardrops from the box and added them to the bet, before announcing:  
  
“Split.”

“Oooo!” The Drifter leaned back in his seat, “Yikes, Moondust!”  
  
The others looked at her like she had sprouted an extra head, and she understood their reactions. Splitting two Fives was usually a very foolish idea. But Eris was feeling...strange. She couldn’t explain it, but...it was as though those wild instincts that allowed Hunters to survive had been rekindled inside her. Burning gently despite no longer possessing the Light.

She would split.

“Bold and mysterious,” Ophed chuckled, “I’m beginning to like her.” He dealt two new cards for her divided hands, a QUEEN joined one FIVE while a SEVEN joined the other.

FIFTEEN and TWELVE. Not good.

She could hear Liana scoff, and there was a slight shake of Niliks’ head. Eris paid them no mind, this was her game against the Dealer, and as Ophed passed his attention to the other two, she allowed herself a moment of contemplation. She did have an advantage, for she had nothing to lose. Her anxiety at possibly losing The Drifter’s buy-in was truly unwarranted. He hadn’t told her about the game, he hadn’t told her about the stakes. She had been thrust into a situation drenched in old grudges. She had no horse in this race. As such, she could be as bold as she wanted to be.

She watched as Ophed dealt himself FOUR before turning to The Drifter, who obviously stood at TWENTY. Curious...Ophed refused to stop the game despite The Drifter’s high hand, and Eris began to realize, that the Awoken didn’t care about the others; he was trying to best her. This was a game between the two of them.  
  
He wanted to play? Fine. She’d play as wildly and recklessly as possible.

So, when her turn came— “Hit me.”

Two cards laid: FIVE and EIGHT, each one matching the other cards so that two TWENTIES rested on the table. It had been luck...pure, absolute luck, and once again, everything froze.  
  
“Bullshit!” Liana snapped, while The Drifter burst into laughter once more.

Niliks scoffed, and tapped the table, signaling an early surrender. He’d cut his loss and maintain his balance. But Eris’ met Ophed’s gaze once more, looking at her with shock that even his well-mastered stoicism couldn’t suppress, and she narrowed her stare; daring him to say something.  
He didn’t though, and instead, slowly reached to flip his bottom card over and end the round. But suddenly—

“Do not call the game!” Liana pointed sternly at Ophed, who acquiesced; giving her a questioning look. The mighty woman’s eyes were on Eris though. Something accusatory and filled with aversion.  
  
“She’s cheatin’.” The woman spat.

Eris blinked, as the men at the table all turned their attention to her, curious to know how she’d respond. It was clear that she was being challenged, Liana was obviously a sore loser, and wasn’t used to being bested at something. Honestly, the air in the room gave the impression that she most certainly wasn’t used to being outdone by another woman.  
  
 _Ah...I see._

The Drifter chuckled beside her, “Them’s fightin’ words, Li—”

“No,” Eris held up her hand in a gesture for him to be silent, a command that Ophed and Niliks also abided by; sensing the severity in her visage, “Let her explain.”

She stared into Liana, an open invitation for the woman to make her strike.

“She can see the cards, I just know it.” The other woman explained, “Those are Hive eyes!”

Her tone had dropped to one of unmasked disgust, and Eris felt the slightest tinge of offense strike her heart. She was used to the stares, the judgement, the fear, and the revulsion that people showered upon her at the sight of her eyes, but the secret she kept—what she would never let anyone know...

No! This was an attack on her honor!

She sat a little taller in her seat, while Liana continued, “You can see the cards, can’t ya?!”  
  
Eris could’ve laughed. The sheer ignorance of it all... the idea that they gave her some type of x-ray vision. It was all so absurd, and merely furthered her belief that people feared what they didn’t understand to the point of lunacy.

“You’re mistaken.” Eris stood firm.

But so did Liana—“The hell I am!”

“Why would a human have the eyes of a Hive?” Niliks’ question was skeptical, but also filled with a genuine curiosity. He wasn’t sure what to think, and Eris could sense an unease growing around him.

A smirk was growing on Liana’s face, “Maybe she’s some half-blooded mongrel.”

Something began to stir inside of Eris. A burning deep within her core...something she had thought she had put away a long time ago.

_Do not allow your mind to wander—Do Not allow yourself to remember!_

She was creating a mantra inside of her head, but was hindered by her present company:

“Please don’t give me any visuals...” Ophed sneered in disgust, while Niliks chuckled.  
  
“Hey!” Liana defended, “It ain’t far-fetched! I’ve heard the rumors about Crota’s court.”

_The whispers of something forbidden—incantation. A spell, a curse...and from it....screams in the dark._

Memories. Eris’ breath was beginning to shudder.

_High ceilings of carved stone. Statues of grotesque deities looking down. No mercy, no compassion...just pain._

She quickly placed her hands in her lap, clutching the fabric of her clothes—a desperation for escape. She didn’t want to hear them! She couldn’t...

“I mean—ain’t there supposed to be a harem or somethin’?” Liana’s tone was so cold, so heartless, “Don’t they keep ‘em around for weird orgy rituals?”  
  
 _I’m breaking._  
  
Falling into dark reverie, Eris grasped for another line to pull herself out. Chancing a glance to her side, looking to The Drifter. He sat in silence, arms resting upon the table, and in his eyes, was the darkest expression Eris had ever seen. His gaze locked upon Liana with wrath barely restrained, and it was a reminder...something that chilled Eris to the bone. A reminder of an unfortunate truth—

_He was once a Dredgen. A servant of the Darkness._

Now, she was catching a glimpse of the dark inside him. Something brought about because of her, and it cultivated her fear.

“Liana..” Niliks began, a sobering tone to his words, “You are being vulgar—”

Liana cut him off with a scoff, “Look at her!” She gestured towards Eris, “You can’t tell me that she ain’t some kinda by-product from a fuck-fest!”  
  
“Goddammit, Li!” Ophed was clearly disgusted.

_Pigs! Trash! All of them!_

Knuckles white in her lap, Eris clenched her jaw to the point of pain.

“Shut it, Li!” Ophed ordered, but the woman wouldn’t hear him.

“All those Guardians keep goin’ in that pit—”

_Voices screaming. Her own name cried out in a plea for salvation...but she was chained...she was kept tucked away..._

“Like that one team that never came back out—”

_Be silent! Shut-up! Shut-up! SHUT-UP!_

Knees bouncing beneath the table, heart about to burst out of her chest. Her breath was too shallow...her blood too hot! She nearly jumped when the Awoken spoke up once more—

“Li!” Ophed snapped, “Are you still playing or not?! Quit this shit and make a choice or I’m calling the game!”

His tone left no room for argument, and with a satisfied smirk upon her ugly face, Liana turned her attention back to her cards.

“Hit me.” She commanded.  
  
And then something snapped—something deep inside of Eris. The leash that tethered her fury had come undone and now...havoc....the dog of war inside her was loose.

_With pleasure!_

Without a word, and with the swiftest of motions, Eris leaned across the table and punched Liana square in the face. She could feel the cracking of bone and cartilage through her glove and hear the sickening wet sound of blood, bone and flesh mingling. She had broken her nose for sure, and Eris had used enough force to snap the larger woman back in her chair, throwing her off balance so that she toppled to the floor.

Niliks barked something in Eliksni, clearly a curse, while Ophed’s face whipped to Eris in a look of pure shock. Liana’s groans of pain were drowned out by The Drifter’s sudden shriek of hysterical laughter, and with her fist shaking from the impact, Eris glowered down at the heap of the woman on the floor.

It had felt good...it had felt damn good! But it wasn’t enough—no! Not enough at all!

She got another chance when Liana suddenly sat upright, one hand clutching her bloody face, while her other had drawn a handcannon from her hip; aimed squarely at Eris.  
  
“Shit!” Ophed jumped to his feet, sliding back from the table, while Niliks followed suit.

Within a split second, Eris had flipped the table over and dropped into a crouch, creating a barrier as Liana pulled the trigger. The wood splintered as the bullet flew past Eris’ face, a breath across her cheek as it found a new mark in the wall behind them.

Screams, curses, and the scrapes of chairs upon the floor— the place had come alive in panic.

_I will break you, bitch!_

Her mind was a whirl of primal chaos, and with a swift push-kick, Eris sent the table forward and into Liana with a horrible Smack! The heavy wood colliding with her skull in an alarming force. The larger woman crumpled upon the floor, moans of pain and disorientation reaching Eris’ ears; confirming she wasn’t dead. The shock having subsided, Niliks pulled his blades, while Ophed drew his own gun. Their attention fixed on Eris with murderous intent, but she was no shrinking violet in the face of violence, and she met their challenge—drawing her own blade, her constant companion from the holster at her thigh. The Bladedancer now stood before them.

Niliks struck first. One blade came down in a hammer strike, while another slashed across his front; an attempt to cut her down and sever her head at the same time. But Eris had dropped to the floor and rolled to the side, bringing her own blade in an upper-sweep to catch his open ribs, but Niliks wasn’t slow—he parried her blade against one of his own with a harsh Clash!  
  
The catch was enough to force her to brace her feet at the impact, halting her for a moment, and unfortunately, this seemed to be the opening Ophed was looking for. His squeezed the trigger, just as a chair came sailing into his side, knocking him off his feet. The attack having come from The Drifter, who sent his own seat straight into the Awoken with a swift quick. The bullet missed it’s mark, but hit the tabletop of another group, who proceeded to scream their own profanities of anger.  
  
Then all hell broke loose.

Gunfire, smashing glass, splintering wood, and roars of fury drowned out the music as a battle-royale unfolded. Her fight had become everyone’s fight, but Eris paid it no mind. Fury, raw and primal, was flowing out of her, and her muscles twitched and strained beneath the force of Niliks’ attack. His eyes boring into her own, growls and hisses escaping his mask, but Eris didn’t flinch. No, this was her righteous anger!  
  
With a graceful pivot, she detached their blades and dropped to the floor, hands supporting her weight as she swept her foot to take the Fallen’s legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground. A yelp of pain escaped him, as his head made contact with the hard wood, and Eris quickly shifted to the side as stray bullets struck all around her from the wild patrons caught up in the violence.

She darted forward, diving over another overturned table to create a barrier, and for a moment, her attention turned towards The Drifter, who was caught up in an exchange of blows with Ophed. The glint of steel in the Awoken’s hand, and Eris spied a Kris-like blade being swung with great skill at her companion’s head. A cross narrowly dodged, followed by a backhanded swipe, but The Drifter was fast, and dodged with little effort. Rage was growing on Ophed’s features, and though his movements were clean and masterful, Eris could tell his composure was beginning to slip, for The Drifter dodged every attack without a single counterstrike, and a grin on his face. Even Eris would have been furious.

“You mother fucker!”

Ophed howled, and she watched as he spun away from The Drifter, towards the place where Liana still lay in a growing pool of blood, and Eris caught sight of the handcannon—discarded somehow in the scuffle. Ophed had been disarmed of his firearm, but now...  
  
She flipped her knife over in hand, blade held in a balanced grip—Four meters to the Awoken meant thirteen rotations of the blade—and she applied the right amount of pressure to send it soaring through the air. A disarming strike to aid The Drifter, and it found its mark; swift and true.

The blade sank into Ophed’s hand, causing him to drop his weapon before he doubled over; screaming in pain. She watched as The Drifter stilled himself, before glancing her way, an expression forming on his face of great amusement and...respect?

It didn’t matter. She wanted her knife back, now.

A quick press off the floor, and she crossed the distance to the two men, using the momentum of her dash to throw a jab straight into the side of Ophed’s head, sending him back several feet to the floor. She wasn’t done...oh no, not yet—and in two steps, she stood over him, ripping the blade from his hand none-to-gently; a yelp escaping him as the blood flowed freely. Then from beneath a curtain of hair, his eyes burned up at her.  
  
“Fucking freak!” He hissed, and for his insult, he received a swift kick to his beautiful face.

The top of her foot connected to his jaw with a sickening crack, and she could hear the rush of air leave his lungs as his throat choked back blood, and all things considered, he was lucky she hadn’t snapped his neck.

_Not so pretty now, are you?!_

A roar from behind, and she spun around to catch sight of Niliks charging her with blades raised for a killing strike. Eris was quick, shifting her stance and gripping her own weapon to catch his blow, calculating in a split second how to use his own size against him to take a fall—but any strategy she could have concocted within the moment was completely discarded, when The Drifter rushed into view. Catching Niliks halfway, he slammed into the Fallen with such force, he sent him sailing across the room, and into the bottle lined shelves behind the counter. A cacophony of shattering glass rising above the fray, and Niliks disappeared from view as he descended to the floor.  
  
“MING!!” Aida’s high-pitched shriek reached them, but The Drifter paid her no mind, turning instead to Eris with a wink. They were even now...but Eris didn’t care. That wasn’t important. What was important, was what she had just witnessed him do—

 _A shoulder charge! He just performed a perfect shoulder charge! How?!_  
  
She thought he wasn’t a Titan! He had said he wasn’t... so what had she just witnessed?

A sharp pain shot up her leg, as she felt something connect with the back of her knee. Legs buckling, she gasped as she fell to her knees, and found her arm being seized in a death grip from behind. She whipped her head around to find Liana, sitting upright, face soaked in blood and contorted into an expression of demonic fury. Her eyes were practically glowing, and there was a promise within them. A promise that she would be the one to end Eris’ life.Throwing back her arm, the larger woman screamed her frenzy as she threw a cross that under normal circumstances, might have killed Eris, but the former Hunter was still the quicker warrior, and she twisted her torso to catch Liana’s fist in her own; stopping her assault. They both strained, muscles trembling as they pushed the other, but Eris was ever the more motivated.

Breaking her other arm free, she landed another devastating blow to Liana’s already broken face, sending the woman crashing back onto the floor. This time, however, Eris would make sure she stayed down.

_Disgusting woman!_

Eris came to straddle Liana’s torso, knees pressing down into her shoulders to keep her pinned.

_Vile and weak!_

She reared back, and began to pummel her repeatedly.

_You are not worthy to speak of my team!_

Another blow—

 _For all the pain_!  
  
And another—

 _For all the humiliation!_  
  
And another—

_For ruining me!_

Blood and bone...it was no longer Liana that lay beneath her fists. Blow after blow after blow rained down. Until—

Strong arms wrapping around her waist, lifting her up with little effort, and in that moment, she lost sight of the shadows on the rocks, and the granite floors. Of the dreadful tapestries and the blood stained linens.

She smelled earth, fire and magic. A warm breath beside her ear, speaking—  
  
“Easy, darlin’, easy!”  
  
She knew that voice. But it mattered not, she needed to save herself...by annihilating that which threatened to destroy her. She began to thrash and writhe in the arms that held her, trying to break free as she was pulled further away from the limp form upon the floor.  
  
“Let me go!” She growled, “LET ME GO! I’LL KILL THEM ALL!”

“Easy now! I’ve gotcha!”

The voice was firm, but...kind. A reassurance, bringing her down, bringing her back. And then—

She was in a pub. There was a massive fight going on around her, and she was being held tightly in the arms of The Drifter. She blinked. Once, twice, and then turned her face to meet his own. His eyes bore into her. Studying, making sure she was alright, and her senses were awash with him. Calming. Soothing.

She had returned.

“Let me go, I’m fine.” She commanded, but he shook his head.  
  
“Nah, stick close. We’re leavin’.” He bestowed a grin, and brought one of his hands up to pop two fingers in the corners of his mouth; releasing a loud whistle.

His Ghost appeared, and quickly rose above their heads to the ceiling, Eris watching in confusion as its shell began to shake, and she could hear a high pitched shriek growing in intensity as a charge s _napped!_ and _popped!_ around it.

What was it doing? It almost sounded like a...

Her eyes widened when she realized what was happening, but before she could say a word, The Drifter pulled her closer against him, her back pressed firmly against his chest, where she could feel the heat inside him growing. His light...it was burning brighter, and as she turned her head to look at him, she watched in disbelief as he raised his arm, and with one mighty shove, the light sprung forth from his body. Creating a wall of light. Creating a dome that encompassed just the two of them.  
  
 _A Ward of Dawn?! He created a Ward of Dawn?!_

Her thoughts on the matter were halted when the Ghost above suddenly burst into a blinding light which enveloped the entire room, forcing Eris to shut her eyes tightly. She felt static in the air, and was certain every hair on her body was standing on end. Taking a chance, she slowly opened her eyes, and saw waves of electricity pulsate through the room, knocking every single person off their feet. All except The Drifter and she. It lasted only a few seconds, but felt as though an entire moment in time had passed them by, and Eris watched as the light went out, like someone flipping a switch. The Drifter’s Ghost floated normally above them, and she watched as it quickly zipped down and towards the place where their card game had originally took place.  
  
Upon the floor was a mess of cards, silver, glimmer, and of course, the Widow’s Tears. Forgotten in the fight, a fortune lay abandoned upon the floor, and the little light wasted no time in dissipating it all. No loss this evening it seems, and Eris wondered if this was a common scam The Drifter and his Ghost pulled. The little drone knew exactly what to do, and as she took a second to ponder it, The Drifter had terminated the Ward of Dawn and opened his coat, allowing the little Ghost to fly in and tuck itself away from sight against his chest.

“Lets split!” He winked at her, and releasing her from his hold, he took her hand instead and rushed towards the entrance, navigating around the people on the floor. Some unconscious while others moaned in pain or vomited from the intensity of the EMP the Ghost had unleashed.

It was all too much. Everything had erupted into chaos and Eris had been the catalyst for it all. Still dazed, still somewhat confused, she allowed The Drifter to pull her along, past the bar where a very shocked and angry Aida leapt up from behind the counter.

“WHAT THE FUCK, MING?!”

Her fists were shaking at her sides, so tiny and full of rage, and The Drifter let go of Eris’ hand to promptly hoist himself up; leaning over the counter towards her. He kissed her cheek and with a huge grin, announced:  
  
“Sorry! Gotta go! I love ya!”

He hopped down and grabbed Eris’ hand once again as they rushed to the entrance. Aida’s shrieks of frustration behind them, and Eris found herself wondering if this...had been his plan all along.

They burst through the door and into the street, rushing full speed through the crowds who darted out of their way with looks of annoyance and confusion. The slapping of their boots upon the walkway, the neon glows that whipped past, all the sounds of talking heads and pulsing rhythms, the smells that seeped into every crevice—it was alive, this whole place was alive! And Eris Morn had come to life as well.  
  
No longer did she cringe away from it all as she ran alongside The Drifter. Oh no...no, she welcomed it! Let someone else step forward, let another game begin! The night sky above was filled with stars, and though pollution from the light dimmed their glow, she still knew they were there, and tonight, in this moment, they had fallen silent. It was just her and The Drifter, who laughed as he ran.

The docking station was straight ahead. They would leave, she would go home, and it would all be over. But goddamn—if that didn’t disappoint her just a bit!  
  
She looked to the man beside her as she ran. His whole form alight with cheer, and Eris could only think of one thing to say:  
  
“I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOU WERE’NT A TITAN!”  
  
“I’M NOT, SISTAH!”

******

The journey back had been uneventful. Eris had sat in silence, while The Drifter would giggle every few minutes, and when they had finally returned to the Derelict and docked, neither made a move to evacuate the jumpship. Their eyes staring straight ahead through the windshield, lost in their own thoughts. But, it was Eris Morn who broke the reverie.  
  
“I feel...incredible...” There was awe in her voice, and it was enough to trigger a full burst of laughter from The Drifter.  
  
“Hell yeah, sistah!” He shouted, “I haven’t had good ol’ fashioned rumpus in a long time! Trust!”  
  
She looked down at her hands as they trembled something fierce, and Eris felt a rush of pride swell within.  
  
“Look at my hands.” She held them higher for him to see, “I’m still shaking.”

He laughed harder, “Ain’t nothin’ like a good ol’adrenaline rush, huh darlin’? Best high there is!” He sighed, “And believe you - me, I’ve smoked some crazy shit in my day!” He trailed off into peals of laughter.

Eris scoffed. Why was she not surprised?

“Heaven’s mercy...” She muttered, “I forgot what that felt like.”  
  
“Gettin’ high?”

“Kicking ass!” She clarified, excitement slipping into her voice, “That rush of battle lust! It’s just...it’s like....aauuuuuugghhh!” She couldn’t help it, she roared like a wild animal. Fingers clenching the air, and The Drifter laughed harder. She didn’t care what she looked or sounded like, she was feeling so fucking good!

“Easy there, killer!” He taunted, “I gotta say, you is a sight to behold in a fight!”

If she hadn’t been so drunk on dopamine, she would’ve blushed at his comment. Abashed at losing her well-practiced composure in front of him and all those people. She had made a spectacle of herself...but who the hell cared about that right now?!

_I feel like a Hunter again...like a Guardian! Like...Eris Morn._

That thought was enough to sober her up a bit. A spark of the memory of who she was long ago. That wild girl who feared nothing. Oh, how she had missed her...and oh, how she hadn’t known it until now. Tonight...terrible things had been said and done. Their outing had turned into a misadventure, and Eris had suffered an attack of trauma. But despite this, despite the ugliness that had been directed at her...Eris felt oddly pleased. She sat a little longer, allowing the adrenaline to run its course. She’d be damned if she said she wanted to leave—on the contrary, she wasn’t ready to depart, and she looked to her ridiculous yet gracious host.

“Thank you for the interesting evening.” She offered him a small smile. She wasn’t sure what to say, but she wanted to say something.  
  
The Drifter turned his face towards her, head leaning back against the headrest as he fixed her with the most charming smile she had ever laid eyes on.  
  
“Not bad for a first date, huh?” He chuckled, and her heart stopped.

_What?!_

Frozen to her seat, she searched his face for any form of irony. He hadn’t just said what she thought he had...had he?  
  
“I beg your pardon?” Her tone betrayed her alarm.  
  
His smile merely grew, eyes glowing, “Ya heard me, Moondust. I said it wasn’t bad for a first date.”  
  
There was a satisfaction coating every inch of him, while Eris steeped in her own shock. He couldn’t be serious...there was absolutely no way.

“I don’t understand—”

“Well,” he cut in, “ya said before that you’d never gone-a-courtin’, and I figured you were long overdue for a first date.”  
  
 _Holy....shit..._  
  
He had taken what she had said last time, and had...he had seriously...he had planned a first date for her?! That’s why...why he had worried she would walk away, why he had shuddered with joy when she had agreed to go with him.

“Why...why would you do that?” She was overwhelmed, unable to hide the tremor in her voice. Too much...too much! She could feel blood rushing to her face, and her heart beginning to hammer inside her ribs.

He chuckled, “Cause ya deserve to have a human experience too, darlin’. Seems like the universe keeps denyin’ ya that right.”  
  
She didn’t know what to say to that. Too much...too much...  
  
“And hey,” he shrugged, “Ya conducted yourself just fine.”

His eyes reflected the sincerity of his words, while Eris’ own remained confounded.

“I started a brawl in a bar.” She pointed out.

“I know! It was freakin’ great!” His whole form was wracked with glee, and he closed his eyes as he laughed towards the ceiling.

Eris looked on, still in shock...still confused. But as she watched The Drifter overflowing in good humor, she couldn’t help the amusement that arose inside her at the remembrance of the evening. It most certainly was a night to recount in the future, and when he finally looked back to her, there was warmth in his gaze.  
  
“Believe me, Moondust,” his tone had shifted into something more gentle, “That boy Lucas...he had no idea what he missed.” The Drifter’s smile softened all the more, “His loss.”

Her heart leapt into her throat, she could have seeped away into the floor in that moment. Her hands trembling in her lap as she watched his face. Looking for banter, looking for insincerity or any sign that he was making a mockery of her. But all she saw was honesty. Pure and absolute.

_This man...this insane, astonishing man..._

Silence fell. They watched each other, and as the seconds ticked by, The Drifter shrugged at last.  
  
“That’s all ya gettin’, Three-Eyes. I don’t kiss on a first date.”

“Ugh!” She sneered, which elicited a chuckle from him and with that, Eris turned away to exit the ship.  
  
The hiss of the air lock giving way, and she lifted the glass to slip out, but suddenly—something held her sleeve, and she looked back to see The Drifter clutching the fabric of her tunic between his fingers. It wasn’t a violent gesture, nor one of harsh command, it was gentle yet firm; letting her know that there was something else...something more.  
  
Though he held her at bay, his face was turned away, looking out the windshield into the cold and dimly lit dock they sat in. She could see something brewing in his mind, a pensiveness had taken hold of him, and she patiently waited. Giving him a moment to compose his thoughts, for she knew first-hand how beneficial it was to support oneself before acting.

Finally, his face turned to look at her, sobriety painted on every inch of his countenance, and Eris braced herself.  
  
“I was in a coffin.” He began, “Buried in a land filled with rice paddies.”  
  
His voice was present, but his mind was far away, and Eris startled; wondering at what he was saying.  
  
 _A coffin? What is he--_  
  
And then it hit her, like a stone against her skull. His resurrection. He was sharing it with her as he hadn’t before!  
  
“I clawed my way out. Through rotting wood and muddy soil.” He nearly sighed, “I made it back into the world under a night sky in a field after a rainfall.”  
  
Eris could picture it, and her heart fluttered.  
  
“My people...there’s a custom they practice.” He licked his lips, looking away as he sorted his thoughts, “When we bury our dead, we dress them in white robes and place rice and coins in their mouths.”  
  
She felt something mournful rising within her, she knew what he was about to say.  
  
“I was dressed in white, and spat three coins upon the ground.” The smallest scoff escaped him, and she watched as his gaze slowly returned to her own. Something pleading and terribly sad within.  
  
A pause. A moment.  
  
“Someone had dressed and prepared me for burial.” His voice was heavy, “someone had given me a funeral.”  
  
She tightened her lips. His eyes were pleading now, something was trying to escape, but The Drifter was holding onto it tightly. Almost desperately.  
  
“Someone had loved and cared enough about me...” A whisper now, “that they gave me a funeral.”  
  
He fell silent then, but he didn’t need to say anything more. Eris understood, and she realized why he hadn’t spoken of it. It was a painful reality that raised many questions. All of them somber. Had he a family once? Had they been the ones to pay him such loving respect? Perhaps...perhaps he even had children and they had buried their father—

She stopped herself. That was too tragic a thought, and it was that very one that made her believe that The Drifter had thought the same, and so...he chose not to dwell on it. She wouldn’t pry. She wouldn’t say a word. Some things are better left alone. Just as Saint had said.

She nodded. Letting him know that she understood, that he needn’t say anymore. It was time for her to go—but...there was something else that sprouted into her mind. A question. A question she had ignored at the beginning of their most eventful of evenings. She would ask him now.  
  
“Tell me,” she began, “The evacuation of that village in Siberia...the battle that my parents survived...we’re you there?”  
  
She wanted to know, she needed to know, and she watched as he watched her. A memory clouding his eyes, reliving the past, and her heart swelled at the expectation of his answer.

His hand slowly released her sleeve, dropping to rest at his side, and when he finally spoke, it was in the softest whisper.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
That was all she needed. All Eris Morn would ever need. Her spirit so high that it threatened to flee her body, for in that moment, she had learned a truth. That if it weren’t for this horribly obnoxious, stubborn, disreputable vagabond that sat before her...who fed her, played cards with her, and shared the most precious of secrets...she would not exist.

 _He gave me the chance at life._  
  
She wanted to cry, but she wouldn’t. Instead, she offered him the most tender of smiles. The best she was capable of, and holding his gaze, she whispered the only thing that mattered in the entire universe.  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
His own lips curled, and he smiled back. No more words were spoken. Let the reverence hang in the air a little longer. And with that, Eris Morn slipped free and returned to her own ship. Heart light, mind whirling with exciting truths, and a sudden realization—

He hadn’t mentioned Orin at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is revealed in the lore that The Drifter was indeed resurrected in a coffin and found himself dressed for a proper burial; indicating that someone had given him a funeral. So, that story is canon, and opens so many more questions about who he once was.  
> \-----------------------------  
> Chó cái = Bitch.


	6. House Of Cards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something a little lighter to formally close out the holiday season.

“Hey! Don’t be tramplin’ my Golden Gate Bridge, Moondust!”

“I haven’t touched it at all, Rat. Not even close.”

Hunched over, Eris rolled the remnants of a playing card in hand to form a twisted spire for her replica of the St. Basil’s Cathedral, while several feet away, The Drifter worked diligently upon his own version of the Empire State Building.

The bridge in question was to her far right, and though she _had_ stood and passed around it to retrieve another deck of cards from a box upon the floor, she hadn’t been close enough to cause any disturbance. The Rat was just being paranoid.

“How’s yours comin’?” He inquired, not bothering to see for himself.

She took a second to analyze her status, “I only need to finish the steeples.”

“Cool! Same here!”

It was a such a strange task they had fallen into. Earlier, when Eris had arrived, things unfolded as per usual. The Drifter had a meal for her—Bahn Mi tonight—and they had “gossiped” for a little while before transitioning into their customary game of cards. But something had been different this evening. There was a lackadaisical air about the room, and the two of them simply could not agree on a game to play.

Even when they attempted to slip into a classic round of poker, they lasted all but five minutes before they both agreed they were not keen on a match this evening.

“We may have exhausted this routine.” Eris had said, and the sudden realization that it were possible for them to lose favor in this weekly ritual triggered a pang of discouragement within her.

The possibility of terminating their agreement and returning to the pattern of existence she had been leading...that life that wasn’t a life at all—it was too unpleasant a thought.

She had been alone for so long...

“Nah!” The Drifter had broken through her negative thoughts, “We’re just havin’ one’a those days! Ya ever had one’a those days? Where you’re just—bored?”  
  
She had long ago. Presently though, she was simply consumed by haunting memories and paranoid thoughts; dreaming of revenge and silence. Truly, there was no time to be bored.

Nevertheless, he was probably right.

“Well,” She began, “how do you suggest we remedy this situation?” She waited for his input, but The Drifter just scrunched his nose and shrugged.  
  
“I dunno. Ain’t you the one with all the answers?”

Eris hadn’t taken the bait, too juvenile—and silence fell between them. She wondered if she should leave, but it was an unappealing solution, and truthfully, there was something else weighing on Eris’ mind. Her anxiety had been heightened all day because of it. Yet another Dawning season had come and gone, and though Eris usually paid no mind to such frivolity, this year had been different. As the holiday approached, she had been plagued by an obsessive thought—an idea refusing to release its hold.

Disquiet rising once more as her mind wandered to the secret she held. She had attempted to distract herself by fiddling about with the cards before her, tilting them together to form a freestanding pyramid, and then a second, and a third—

“Ya should’ve added a base, darlin,’” His voice cut in, “Would make it nice and sturdy.”  
  
And _that_ was the catalyst for the argument that began about the physics of building card houses.

The proper foundation, appropriate use of apexes, vertical versus horizontal stacking. They had pooled their cards together and attempted to demonstrate every trick they knew, building a strange hybrid of a pyramid and a stadium.

“You’re not doin’ it right!” He had hollered, “Ya gonna make the damn thing collapse!”  
  
“Quit fidgeting, Rat! You’re the one who will bring about its collapse!”  
  
Sure enough— a reaching hand from him to snatch a card away from her own, resulted in a reflexive draw back, and the tower came tumbling down.

“There! Ya happy?!” He had thrown his hands in the air before dramatically sinking into his seat; like a child with a broken toy.

But, as per usual, Eris was the more practical one.  
  
“It can be rebuilt, moron.”  
  
He had stared at her with a pout, looking for all the world like a brat on the brink of a tantrum, but then a gleam formed in his eye...a grin slowly spreading upon his lips. She knew that look. He was plotting something, and Eris braced for impact.

“Ya wanna REALLY build somethin’?” He wagged his eyebrows at her, a playful tone in his voice.

She wasn’t sure if she did, but he hadn’t bothered to await a response from her. He had leapt to his feet and quickly bolted from the room, and though she hadn’t reacted visibly, Eris’ heart had jumped into her throat at his sudden, spastic movement. She was left to sit in silence; pondering what the hell had gotten into him.

He came back several minutes later, carrying a rather large box with a book balanced atop it. He dumped his cargo upon the floor beside her feet before taking a seat on the rug himself, popping off the lid of the box to reveal hundreds of decks of playing cards! From classic French suits, to more alien styles, it was a myriad of colorful stock, and Eris was rather impressed at the collection, wondering why he would fetch so many.

She got her answer when they found themselves spending the next hour flipping through the book he had brought. A collection of glossy images featuring iconic works of architecture from the ancient cities of Earth. The Golden Gate bridge of San Francisco, the Eiffel Tower of Paris, the Taj Mahal of India—they were all there in full glory.  
  
Marvels of human ingenuity from a time long since passed. Echoes of something that humanity had taken for granted.

And The Drifter had suggested they try and build them all out of cards.

An ambitious endeavor, but Eris was in agreement. Something to occupy their time while she mustered the courage to fulfill her original objective of the evening.  
  
The second hour was spent arguing over the schematics of how they would lay out this world of cards. Disagreements on scale, technique and proximity had reached fever pitch, and The Drifter had even taken to drawing out the plans upon the inside cover of the book.

But Eris disagreed with it all.  
  
“I’m better at math than you!” The Drifter had roared, and that infantile pout had returned.

“You are not taking into consideration the furniture in the room and how that changes the square footage, you simpleton.”

“I don’t know what the hell ya just called me, Moondust, but I don’t like it!”  
  
This back and forth had obviously run its course when The Drifter’s Ghost suddenly burst forth from the cushions of the sofa, and flew at the two of them in a furious charge. Clearly, the little light had grown tired of their adolescent bickering, and as it came to them, it hovered over the book upon the table, scanning it before projecting a flawless three-dimensional illustration of how they should organize the cards upon the floor.  
  
A perfect graph.  
  
Eris’ enthusiasm for the activity had somewhat increased, and she nodded towards the Ghost; thanking it for its input.  
  
But The Drifter had simply scoffed, “No one asked ya!”

And now, here they were, nearly done with their offbeat project...and Eris still hadn’t fulfilled her objective.  
  
Why was this so hard for her?

She glanced over to the sofa to see the little Ghost lounging upon his stack of pillows, watching them work. There was an overall feeling of peace in the air, something so calm that for the first time in a long time, Eris’ mind wasn’t wandering to dark places. She was content to simply admire the work they were accomplishing; anticipating the final result. It was going to be quite a sight for certain...  
  
“Ya know what?” The Drifter’s boisterousness cut through the harmony, “If we’re buildin’ a city, we oughta light it up!”

She hadn’t understood what he meant, and while parting her lips to ask for clarification, she was halted as The Drifter bolted from the room once more. His spastic actions making her rethink the nickname she had bestowed of _Rat._ He was much more like a squirrel.

He returned with a box filled with string lights, and began to lay them out, fiddling with the wires with a confident flourish. Eris had to admit...she did enjoy watching him work. As strange as it may seem, there was a gracefulness bout him. Within the raggedy barbarity of his character, there was still an unmistakable finesse in everything he did.

She looked away from his new found task, continuing with her own as her mind wandered into worried thoughts once more.

Her fingers twitched, as she fought the urge to touch the pouch at her hip, a pointless gesture that reflected her nervous desire to reassure herself of its contents.

_How do I do this?_

The truth...the complete truth...was that Eris Morn’s hand was stilled from fear of humiliation. She could not simply just—thrust the gift upon him. What if he disliked it? What if he found the gesture inappropriate?

_Since when does The Drifter find anything inappropriate?_

Fair enough.

No...she had to find a casual way in which to bestow her present. Something that would downplay the gesture as merely one of good manners and respectful regard for tradition. Besides, he had been so very giving to her in the past. She owed it to him.  
  
 _Find the balance._

So, she cleared her throat, “The Dawning was several days ago.”

She tried to keep a sense of disinterest in her tone. She didn’t want him thinking she actually cared about such a frivolous festivity. Because she absolutely did _not._

She heard him scoff, “Drifter don’t celebrate holidays.”

“Hm.” She understood.

Truly, what was there to celebrate? When one had suffered as they had, there weren’t many blessings to count. Life itself—the idea that they were survivors was certainly not something to exalt—for trauma, pain, and nightmares followed. Such destructive things. It was no life at all.

She pondered for a second at the Drifter’s use of speaking in the third-person, and there was something about it that made her wonder...  
  
“Tell me,” She began, “if The Drifter doesn’t celebrate holidays, does Eli?”

She caught his slight flinch at her words, subtle yes, but she noticed nonetheless. She was delving into sensitive subjects once more, and she halted her card construction to watch him carefully; noticing how quickly he recovered.  
  
“Nope. Unless ya count Happy Hour.” He didn’t pause in his work, nor did he look up when addressing her.

But Eris wasn’t done.

“What about Germaine?”

At that question, everything shifted. The Drifter’s arms came down upon his knees with a smack! Turning to look at her with the most bitter expression she had ever seen him wear.

“Why the hell do ya keep callin’ me that?!”

His voice was hard, and something lay beneath the surface that Eris had never felt from him before. It was something far stronger than just annoyance; he was legitimately angry and...suspicious?

She worried for a moment, confused as to why he had become so riled.

“That’s your name, is it not?” Her words earned her an even harsher stare from The Drifter.

_Am I wrong? How could I be wrong?_  
  
“No, it ain’t!” His voice was firm and almost scolding, “It’s a name I’ve _used,_ but everybody who knew me by that name—” He paused, and Eris could see him swallow, “—is dead.”

Eris paused, drinking in this information. She hadn’t known that, hadn’t even thought of that. All she knew, was what her accursed companion had whispered to her.

_It had been a strange circumstance three years prior. Eris had returned to the Tower to meet with Ikora on matters she had found most pressing, and as she turned a corner in the bazaar, she had nearly collided with The Drifter; unknowing of his identity at the time._  
  
 _“Woah! Sorry, little sistah!” He had chuckled, and when their eyes met, she could see a sudden flash of recognition_ _at the sight of her._

_“Eris Morn?” He had asked, and she had found herself wracking her brain to determine how this...raggedy-looking stranger knew her.  
  
“I beg your pardon, but do I know you?” Her question had come out harsh...most things she said always did, even when she hadn’t meant it in such a manner. _

_His eyes had glanced her over, and a smirk had spread across his face, “Nope. Guess not.”_

_And with that, he had stepped aside and went on his way._

She had dismissed the entire thing and went about her day. But later, he had come back into the forefront of her mind. There was something terribly familiar about him, and it had been gnawing at her. Where had she seen him before? Eventually, slowly, a picture began to form in her mind. Memories of a man who had been in the company of Orin, a man who had come and gone during the early days of the City...but what was his name?!  
  
The orb before her had glowed a little brighter, and the whisper that always invaded her privacy had spoken: _“Germaine.”_

And so, that was the name she had secretly known him by. Even when others called him The Drifter, even when the name Eli had been thrown about by the likes of Saint-14 and Osiris—

the ancient ones had assured her, that his true name was Germaine.  
  
But now...

“How the hell do you know that name? Who told you?”   
  
His words were cold and forceful, but Eris stood firm; not allowing him to see just how worried and confused his attitude was making her feel.  
  
“I told you before,” She kept her voice firm, “The stars whispered the name—”

“Bullshit!” He snapped, and his eyes glowed in near frenzy, “The Pilgrim Guard knew me as Eli, the Iron Lords knew me as Wu Ming, and the only ones who called me Germaine...were a bunch’a nobodies who lived in the middle o’nowhere! And every...single...one of ‘em...is dead.”  
  
She could see his nostrils flare, rage boiling inside of him.  
  
“Only me and my Ghost remember that name.” His final statement was nearly hissed, and not once did he blink during his tirade.

It took an extra effort on Eris’ part not to flinch. She wouldn’t let him see that he was evoking an emotional response within her. He was angry and, she sensed something else...fear? He was afraid? The idea that a past name could invoke such a powerful response from him...Eris wasn’t sure what to think or how she should move forward. Better to simply abandon the subject.  
  
“I apologize if the name offends you or stirs-up uncomfortable memories, Rat.” She kept her voice even, “I will refrain from calling you by it in the future.”  
  
And with that, she turned away, resuming her work upon her cathedral. Silence fell, and Eris reflected on the fact, that she never seemed to read him right. Some topics that seemed taboo could trigger one of his trademark enthusiastic ramblings, but those subjects that seemed innocent enough, would send him into an episode of distemper. It was truly frustrating.

Eris wouldn’t say anymore. She could feel The Drifter’s eyes on her, still watching, but she wouldn’t bestow him with any more attention. She tucked a steeple into one of the towers, hyper-focused on completing her final construction so she could leave for the evening. Honestly, she had wasted too much time with him.

_There are more important things to be dealing with._

She nearly jumped when The Drifter spoke once more,

“To answer your question—yeah. Germaine celebrated holidays.”  
  
Stunned at the realization that he had backtracked and graced her question with an answer, Eris looked back, watching him carefully as he tightly rolled a playing card to create a steeple of his own. She had figured his deflection would have nullified her original question on the matter, and hadn’t expected an actual response. She was pleased that he had acquiesced, and it took her a moment to think of something to say, but The Drifter went on—

“Before the Pilgrim Guard, I lived for a while in a tiny village.” She could see the slightest twitch at the corner of his lips, “We’d go all out for the holidays.”

The lightest chuckle escaped him, and he sighed, “We’d decorate the hell outta the place for Tet Nugyen Dan. We’d hang lanterns and banners...cook the best damn food you’d ever-done eat!”

There was a joy seeping into his tone.

“I’d help make mooncakes for the kids durin’ Tet Trung Thu.” His smile was growing, and yet, even from where Eris knelt, she could see something bittersweet in it.

“All the colors and the lights...was a sight to behold. We’d wear our traditional clothes and pay honor to our ancestors. We’d tell stories and all the kids would sing funny little ditties.” 

He paused in his ministrations, pondering something, “We were a small community...but we had created somethin’ of a family. We all looked out for each other, and the holidays was a time to appreciate that.”

It sounded beautiful to Eris, and if the image he painted was any indication of what a holiday was supposed to be, then perhaps she had been unfair in her judgement. Maybe it was the massive celebrations the City had embraced that she found objectionable, the excessiveness and outright gluttony everyone indulged in seemed irreverent. Didn’t it negate the entire point and purpose of what holidays were meant to be? Whereas, what The Drifter described was...wholesome. An intimacy between family and friends. Something private and meaningful.

She wouldn’t mind celebrating in that manner.

“How ‘bout Eris Morn?” His voice cut into her thoughts, dragging her back, “Did she celebrate holidays?”

There was a smirk on his face as he glanced over his shoulder at her, putting her on the spot, and she thought for a moment. Thinking back, memories returning...of better days. There was no reason not to tell him the truth.

“Long ago,” She began, “There was a time when I would...indulge a little.”

Those memories of being dragged into the city for cocktails and heavy meals.

“My first fireteam with Ikora,” She looked away, down to the card in her hands, “they would always take advantage of the festivities and conduct themselves with abandon.”

Colorful lights in crowded places. Pulsating music, and her fellow teammates playfully coaxing her to dance with them. Ikora laughing at her. Teasing.

She almost scoffed at the image in her mind’s eye. For despite having been rowdy in her early years, there had still been some things that she was apprehensive to engage in. Too embarrassed to allow herself to be so liberal, but despite that, she had still enjoyed her time with her friends.

“I suppose,” She took a moment to choose her words carefully, “I simply enjoyed the feeling of it all.”

Sitting upon the roof of her apartment, watching the lights in the skies. Listening to the music and voices of the people below. She had been content in her existence.

“Meh!” She watched him shrug, “This festival crap the city throws ain’t a real holiday!”  
  
“Hm.” Eris was inclined to agree completely.

“Buncha sappy gestures of _goodwill_ —Ha!” He barked, continuing his work, “Givin’ out gifts and makin’ a big show of it!”   
  
There was complete disgust in his tone, and Eris found herself chiming in.  
  
“Indeed. There is a complete lack of regard for reverence and reflection during this time.” She shook her head, “Holidays should be personal and private, not a spectacle of hedonistic indulgence and frivolous spending.”  
  
“Right!” The Drifter declared.  
  
“Hm.”

Then silence fell between them, and Eris turned her attention back to the final spire her cathedral of cards needed, her heart sinking. She had been slowly building the courage needed to bestow the gift she had brought for him, but now, his words had changed her plans. Clearly, he was not entertained by the notion of gift-giving during the Dawning, and bestowing him with something would most likely earn mockery from him.  
  
 _I am a fool._

At least she had been able to save face at this point.

But then—

“I gotcha somethin’.” His tone was playful, and Eris quickly glanced up to find an impish grin upon his face.

_What?!_

She stared at him in incredulity. His shift in mood and expression, his sudden contradiction of his own words, and it occurred to her that he had been joshing her this whole time.

_Why does he keep doing this?!_

She could slap him...maybe throw something at him. But she maintained her composure, narrowing her eyes instead.  
  
“You just declared you hated holiday gift-giving.”  
  
His smile grew, “I did!”  
  
She waited for him to further explain himself, but when he didn’t, she grew more confused.

“I don’t understand—" She began, but her attempt to reply to his most frustrating of manner was halted when his Ghost floated up from the couch and quickly came to hover before her face, causing Eris to shy back at its sudden proximity.

She could see a shudder passing through its shell, as though it could barely contain its excitement, and she realized that it had been waiting all evening for this moment.

“Well,” The Drifter spoke up, “Give ‘im your hand!”  
  
Did he mean hold out her hand, or touch the Ghost? She was still confused about what was unfolding, growing paranoid that there was some trick about to be played. Her trust was still something safely guarded, despite the steps she had taken to open herself just a little more over the past year; it was hard. But any reservations began to deflate as the little light nodded in an encouraging gesture; something bright and friendly. Letting her know that it was alright.

She would trust him.

So, Eris slowly held out her hand, palm facing up and body rigid as she waited for what was to come. A slight whirl, a bright flash, and she watched as a small black box began to materialize in her hand; summoned by the Ghost who let out a small chitter when it had finished.

Eyes moving over the object in hand, she grew even more puzzled. Whatever was inside had to be quite small, as the box itself was light, and she could hear something rattle against the sides of the lid when she gently tilted it.

_This looks...like a jewelry box._

Her eyes shifted up, finding both the Ghost and The Drifter watching her closely, their countenances filled with anticipation, and Eris couldn’t help but feel pressure descending upon her. There was no mistaking the expectation in their visages, waiting for a reaction from her, some type of emotional response that would either gladden or discourage them, and Eris felt her anxiety begin to rise.  
  
She wasn’t an excitable person—never had been, and her impassiveness had become legendary. Still...she had to admit, The Drifter had been able to do something no other had done: stir emotional responses in her she hadn’t felt in centuries. She was angry with him for it, but also felt such gratitude. Why did he have to be so... _real?_

Hesitation had lingered long enough. The anxious gleam in The Drifter’s eye was growing more intense, and so, Eris lifted the lid—and felt the floor fall out from beneath her when she beheld the contents of the box.   
  
A delicate burnished chain lay coiled within, but it was the sight of the iridescent teardrops that caught her breath.

_Widow’s Tears!_

And as she curled her fingers around the chain and lifted it before her eyes, she realized that she was, in fact, holding a necklace. Four Widow’s Tears were strung through the chain and divided by burnished bronze beads, simple in design, but absolutely stunning nonetheless.

“What is this?” Her voice was unsure.

“A necklace, darlin’.” He spoke as though it were obvious and she was merely being dense.

She ignored the gibe, taking in every detail of the jewelry in her hand.

“I don’t understand—”

“They’re your winnin’s.” He explained, and she froze.

_My winnings?_

The Blackjack game on Ceres. Realization falling upon her like the proverbial ton of bricks, leaving her in a haze of bewilderment as she processed what he had given her. He had taken the Widow’s Tears she had wagered and made her a Dawning gift.

“You converted my winnings into a necklace.” It came as a statement, not a question.  
  
“Yep! You was winnin’ that game fair-and-square! Knowin’ you...” He explained, “I figured ya wouldn’t be cashin’ in those babies for their value. So, I figured—you’d probably just keep ‘em ornamental. And there ya go!”

Eris didn’t know what to say, she was still trying to process the revelation that he had made her a gift. This highly valuable piece of jewelry had been made by The Drifter. Just for her.

“It’s beautiful.” It came out as a whisper, and her eyes fixed on the glow of the Tears in the overhead light.

So distracted was she, that she hadn’t registered The Drifter’s movements until he was kneeling beside her, and she nearly bumped heads with him once more. Once again, he was too close, but she found she wasn’t minding so much anymore, and her thoughts were dwelling more on how he had been able to move so swiftly and silently to her side without her noticing...and without disturbing any of the clustered architecture upon the floor.

“Here,” Reaching out, he gently took the necklace from her, “ya snap it open like this—”   
  
He demonstrated by clicking the back of the chain open, and it parted between his fingers. A pause, his eyes meeting hers in a question, asking permission to close the gap between them, and Eris found herself somewhat amused and charmed at his silent demonstration of etiquette.

_If I let him...would it be too tender a gesture?_

She hesitated, he waited, and it was that respect of boundaries that decided for her.

Bringing her hands up, Eris pushed the hood of her cloak back just the slightest, enough to give him the access he required without revealing....too much of herself. She leaned forward in invitation and he met her half-way, bringing his hands behind her neck to secure the necklace in place.

She could smell red rubber grease and the embers of a fire wafting from him. It wasn’t unpleasant, in fact, it made him feel all the more real. A man who worked with his hands, who could create such dangerous yet beautiful things.

_He’s an enigma of contradictions._

Her heart beat just a little faster, and she averted her gaze; looking to the side. Worried that if she were to watch him...

Instead, her eyes landed upon his Ghost, still floating before them, watching closely. There was something in its demeanor, something Eris couldn’t quite grasp, and she wondered at its stare. Wondering how it were possible for a Ghost to possess so much melancholy in its eye.

“There!” The Drifter announced, and he sat back to admire his handiwork, “Hm!” He nodded in approval, “It looks really good on ya, Moondust! I think it suits ya just fine.”

She reached up, running her fingers along the chain at her breastbone, feeling the smoothness of the cold jewels. She felt...different somehow, like something inside of her was awakening. This gift at her throat, it was too exquisite for her; what made The Drifter think it suited her? What was he playing at? Suspicion growing, fueled by unwarranted paranoia, and though she knew that there was no reason to be so overly anxious, it didn’t change how she felt.

But then he smiled at her, and she noticed there was a slight gap in his two front teeth; something she had never noticed before. And for some inexplicable reason, there was something about the sight of it that caused her negativity to disperse. There was so much sincerity, so much honesty in his expression. He was real, and probably the most authentic being she had ever known, even when stacked beside his reputation. When you got up close, when you gave him a good look....you could see the truth.

_Trust. Just trust._

“Thank you.” She nodded, “I’ll cherish this, always.”

And she meant it.

“Ya don’t gotta get all sappy ‘bout it, Three-Eyes!” He laughed, but Eris could tell—he was flattered.

She glanced back down at the Teardrops. A question that needed answering rising to the surface:

“Tell me,” She began, “How did you come to have so many of these? I was under the impression they were quite rare.”

He chuckled, “Remember how I told ya Sloane’s been givin’ me clearance in the Deep Six Refineries?”  
  
She did.  
  
“Well, those things are all over the goddamn place!” He laughed, “And that mammoth ain’t got a clue! It’s how I recuperated my loss at her outrageous bribery fee.”

That made perfect sense, and Eris found it quite curious that Sloane wouldn’t know about the Widow’s Tears right under her feet.

“You possess a great fortune, Rat.” She eyed him curiously, “With all that wealth...you do nothing with it.”  
  
That earned her a boisterous chortle, “Sistah, them teardrops ain’t even the most valuable thing I have! I got enough wealth to buy Calus’ own!”  
  
She allowed his words to sink in— He was comparing his assets to that of an Emperor’s? Just what did he have?

His laughter died down, and he offered her a wink, “Here’s a fun little bit’a trivia for ya to sleep on—you’ve been hangin’ out with the wealthiest man in the universe.”

She narrowed her eyes at his comment, skeptical at his declaration, “Then why do you live like a pauper?”

The Drifter sighed, placing his hand dramatically upon his heart, “I am a simple man—” his voice adopting a foppish tone, “—of simple tastes.”  
  
“Hm,” Eris concurred, “ _Very_ simple.”

“Hey!” He glared, “Be nice, hun! Or I’m takin’ the gift back!”

_Gift...speaking of a gift..._

Eris’ hand strayed to the pouch at her hip, her gift for him still resting inside beside her silent partner. That courage she had lost earlier had returned, and she steeled herself; taking a calming breath before reaching into her bag. She felt the heat of her... _companion_ , brushing against her bare skin, sending a chill down her spine for the briefest of moments. She hated the way it felt, which is why she would utilize armored gloves to spare herself such discomfort.

She quickly brushed it aside, feeling about for his present.  
  
“I too have something for you.” She announced, and watched his expression shift to one of confusion.

“Huh?”

“I...” She swallowed down the unease that stubbornly kept returning, “I made you something.”

Her fingers finally found his gift, and she removed it from the pouch, holding it out for him to see, and her heart beat faster as she watched his eyes fixate upon the object in her hand. He was still...as though he were shocked.

She held a bracelet of beaded rosewood strung upon a thin strap of leather. A tiny red tassel dangling in its center.

“It’s a mala bracelet.” She explained, “There’s an old belief that it brings protection and clarity.”  
  
The Drifter’s brow furrowed as she spoke, “You made this?”  
  
“Yes,” She swallowed, wondering at his tone and expression, “I carved the beads myself, and wove the tassel.”

He didn’t move to take it, he simply continued to stare. Silence. A minute passed.  
  
 _Why isn’t he doing or saying anything?_

Anxiety had returned, and Eris worried that perhaps he was unimpressed with her craftsmanship. True, it was nowhere near the level of artistry the necklace he had given her reached, and she began to worry that it was far too mediocre in comparison for an exchange of gifts.

Perhaps she could play it off, make light of it all, but then—a huge smile spread across his face.

“Awww! Moonduuuust!” He giggled like an excitable child, reaching out to finally take it from her hand, “Ya made this for me?!”  
  
Heat rose to Eris’ cheeks, not expecting such a sudden enthusiastic response from him.

“Yes.” She confirmed.  
  
“Ya carved these?! Are ya serious?!” He brought the beads to his eye, inspecting them closely with a look of pure disbelief, and for some reason, this triggered further modesty within Eris.   
  
_Why am I feeling so self-conscious?_

“I did indeed carve them.”   
  
“By hand?!” Shock and awe coated his voice, as he ran the jewelry through his fingers.  
  
Eris nodded, “Sai Mota taught me. She...she was very artistic, and would carve little trinkets for all of us.”   
  
A small smile began to form at the memory, of Sai and her sheepsfoot blade whittling away at the wood in her hand. Adept and graceful.

“She could carve anything, and I was mesmerized by it.”

_A small intricately carved cat lay in Sai’s hand. Offering it to Eris with a smile. How amazed she had been!_

“I begged her to teach me.” Something warm stirred inside of Eris, “I wanted to create wonderful things just as she did. I worked really hard—trial and error, but eventually, I grasped the art of it.”

All the gifts she used to make! Tiny horses, wooden roses, beaded jewelry. One Dawning, she had even made a necklace with matching earrings for Ikora, and the Warlock had been so delighted, she had worn them every day.

Until...

Eris felt her mood begin to deflate, as more somber thoughts began to rise. A reminder...that this bracelet for The Drifter had been the first in a very, very long time.

After the Pit...after the hospital...after they had released her...

_Coming home to a room she no longer knew. Paying no mind to any of her possessions—No...they were not hers to begin with. They had belong to a girl she couldn’t remember, and soon, she was forgetting. Not caring. Everything she once loved, now just useless endeavors._

Eris had stopped carving.

But then...that young Guardian came with Sai’s necklace in hand, and oh—how she had remembered the beauty of it all! She spoke the words, entertaining the thought of carving once more...and so she had.

She watched as The Drifter continued to inspect every detail of her work with a smile that was so genuinely joyful, Eris grew confused. The giggles under his breath, the look of pure excitement, how could he possibly be so delighted over something so simplistic?  
  
“Thank you!” He laughed, “Thank you! Really—Thank you!”

She didn’t understand what she was feeling in that moment. Seeing him so happy...it was...

She felt a gentle smile of her own growing, her heart aching so bittersweetly. How long had he been deprived an act of kindness that this would be his reaction to a gift from her?

“Here,” She leaned forward, mirroring his own gesture from before, and he finally looked to her as she reached out and took the bracelet from his hands; undoing the knot that held the straps together.

He caught on, pulling his sleeve back to expose his wrist, and as she began to tie the ornament about him, her eyes fell to the symbols upon his hands and fingers once more. Still curious at their meaning, she would have to ask about them sometime.   
  
She felt the knot secure, and she released it, sitting back to admire her own handiwork.

“Hm,” She approved, “I think it suits you just fine.”

Eyes glancing to his own, she startled beneath his gaze. Breath catching in her throat as he watched her with the warmest expression, and his eyes looked lighter than she remembered. Like that time...when she was certain it was Eli that sat before her.

Eris could fall into that gaze.

A _Chirp!_ from beside them, and they turned to see the Ghost watching them, it’s red eye shifting to gaze upon the gift Eris had bestowed. But The Drifter quickly slapped his hand upon his own wrist, hiding the bracelet from view.  
  
“It’s mine! You’re not playin’ with it!” He glared at his companion, nose scrunched in a childish manner, and Eris couldn’t banish the image of two siblings fighting over a toy. The Ghost glared back, and once again, Eris was certain they were silently arguing.

_What a strange connection they have._

She sighed, turning away to look at her cathedral. One more steeple, that’s all it needed. So, she gingerly took up a final card, rolling it tightly before placing it upon the last tower, and that was it. It was done. She leaned back, proud of what she had accomplished, and quite amused at the realization that she had spent the entire evening creating a fantasy world made of playing cards.

“We done?” The Drifter questioned.

“Indeed, I think we are.”

She caught him rising to his feet out of the corner of her eye, and when she turned to face him, she found his hands held out to her in invitation. A gesture most genteel to help her to her feet. The smile had died down to his more common smirk, but jubilation was still gleaming in his eye.

She took his hands, feeling the callouses and rough skin of an engineer pressed against her own as he helped her to her feet, and when she stood, it was just a bit too close.

“Well, let’s light this thing up!” He announced as he let go of her, carefully stepping around the card-stock buildings has he made his way back towards the table.   
  
Eris followed, while the little Ghost hovered beside her. The collage of various cards, all possessing various designs and colors, it created such an artful aesthetic, and she couldn’t help the tinge of excitement that arose at the thought of what the final touch would bring.   
  
She reached the table, watching as The Drifter kneeled at the floor to twist together two thin pieces of wire, and in an instant their creation lit up in the crystal glow of stringed lights. A brilliance that brightened the entire room, and all together—The Drifter, Eris Morn and The Ghost looked on in approval.

The had created a new world in the image of a forgotten one. From San Francisco, to Moscow, Tokyo and Rome. The London Clock Tower and the Parthenon, it was a world neither of them had ever known. But in this moment, at their feet, they could look down and imagine.

“Not bad.” The Drifter nodded his approval, as he rose to stand beside her, “I think we done good.”  
  
“Hm.” Her own agreement needed no words.

To her, it was perfect, and for a moment...she entertained the idea of them shrinking in size to live in it.   
  
_No worries. No cares. A place of our own making where nothing can touch us_.

Such a silly idea, and yet—it stirred a longing within her.

“Well,” The Drifter sighed, “Happy Dawning?”

She turned her face towards him, a small smile on her lips, “Happy belated Dawning.”

He fixed her with a blank expression, and she felt amusement rising in her at the realization that he had no idea what she meant. Defeated once more by a big word.

“It means _Late_.”

“Then just say LATE!” His incredulity was most amusing, “Jesus! Is that so hard?!”

She looked away, not wanting him to see just how humorous she found his little outburst. Silence fell once more, as the two of them leaned against the table, caught up in their own reveries, and Eris had to admit—a Dawning spent with The Drifter was worth every moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the lore, Eris is quite a skilled carver. She learned from her fireteam member Sai Mota, and in Shadowkeep, if you complete the Sai Mota Necklace quest, Eris will reveal the story of how she learned to whittle and carve wood. She then tells you that she is thinking about taking up carving again, and that it would probably be good for her mentally.
> 
> Happy New Year!


	7. Beggar My Neighbor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise. There's another one in the End Notes.

“Um...Moonduuuuust? Hellooooo? Throw down!”

Eris blinked. The Drifter’s voice pulling her back into the moment, and she met his gaze across the table. Confusion worried the corners of his eyes, and she felt her emotions slip into the tiniest form of delicacy. She had been caught off guard, lost in her thoughts. Her head was not in the game this evening.

She tried to play it off. Her eyes looking down to the small pile of cards they had formed, and beheld a KING OF SPADES. They had decided on a round of _Beggar My Neighbor,_ and with this card dealt by The Drifter, Eris was obligated to pay the honor. Three cards owed.

She shook some clarity into herself, and began to lay her own cards. FOUR, TEN, TWO.  
  
No court. So, The Drifter collected the spoils. It didn’t matter to her, in all honesty, she was just going through the motions. Too much on her mind. Too many feelings churning inside her, and The Drifter clearly noticed.

“What’s up, darlin’?” He eyed her as he added the cards to his own, “Ya feelin’ sick or somethin’?”

“What makes you say that?” Her voice was devoid of emotion.

“Cause ya ain’t payin’ attention, and ya didn’t even finish your dinner.”

She glanced down to the half-eaten bowl of steamed vegetables and rice. The meal had been excellent, with fluffed rice and a honeyed glaze, but her appetite and fled her. What should she say? Should she assure him that there was nothing to be concerned about, or tell him the truth? The truth that she was consumed by a myriad of thoughts. About the Black Fleet, about the speculations of the machinations of the Hive and the role they were about to play. Thinking about _him_. Thinking about her nightmares of a collapse...

_She stands upon the edge of a balcony—balanced atop a banister. Beneath a darkened sky, clouds blocking out the stars—glowing red from the fires that burned the city below. She hears screams, sobs and wailing—shadows moving through the streets to take the lives of those who would not see the truth._

_The wind whips her cloak, the orb in her hand burning a deeper purple, and she watches as The Traveler begins to crumble. Blackened ash falling to the Earth.  
  
Eris feels nothing._

_Behind her, feet approach, and she turns to see Ikora. The Warlock’s body trembling, tears upon her cheeks, and her eyes filled with such fear and confusion. Eris has never beheld the woman this way before...her friend...her sistser...  
  
But no longer—_

_She watches Ikora’s fists trembling at her sides, the tears flow harder, and it is then that Eris realizes...the Warlock’s fear and rage is not directed at the crumbling Traveler, nor the burning city—she’s looking at Eris._

_There is a burning hatred for her._

_Nonetheless, Eris smiles. But there is no love or kindness in the gesture. She smiles maliciously because she knows the truth—that Ikora is a fool._

Eris had shot awake in her alcove upon Luna. Shaken, worried—obsessive thoughts growing. She would not sleep again. Her emotions too high, anxiety running rampant, and so she took to pacing about. Counting her steps, running her hands along the fabric of her top—distractions to ground her. Focusing on what was real, because dreams were not supposed to be real.

But her mind burned with questions—what did it mean? Why did she feel so terrified?

_The image of Ikora—eyes weeping and filled with murderous intent. A question moving upon her lips:_

_“How could you?!”_

It sent tremors through Eris, and she found herself pacing harder than before. Breath quickening, her mind fighting back against itself, trying to silence the thoughts of the dream—and yet, unable to think of anything else.

_Stop...please, just stop. Let me be free._

Wringing her hands, hair hanging in her face, obstructing her third-eye. She must have looked the mad-woman, and truly, she felt the madness trying to lay claim.

_1, 2, 3, 4, 5. 6, 7, 8, 9, 10—_

Counting her steps in a circle. Eyes darting about, trying to find things to focus on. The red thread woven into the brown fabric of the blanket she slept beneath...the dented steel crate she used as a nightstand...and the necklace of Widow’s Tears that sat upon it.

Her necklace. Her Dawning gift.

And in the dim light of her makeshift room, the glow of the tears expelled her tormented thoughts. Her mind turned to its iridescent beauty, and she had approached; reaching out to feel the cold of the jewels upon her fingertips. So beautiful and mysterious...she could not chase the feeling away that she was not deserving of it.  
  
 _Such majesty wasted on a broken creature._

Then her mind had turned to the man who had given it to her. The Drifter was such an enigma...even after all this time in his company, she still had not deciphered him. One would think he would be simple enough to understand. Oh, in the beginning she thought she had him pinned—a con-man with no morals. No honor.  
  
 _A man who had never bled for a cause._

But now, she had come to realize she had been mistaken, and there was so much more. He was guarded...like her, but unlike her, he played the fool. He had created characters he could slip in and out of depending on the situations he encountered. It was masterful. Something to reluctantly applaud, but it didn’t quench that human need for answers that Eris had been cursed with all her life.

She had listened, she had learned what he was willing to teach her. Sharing parts of himself...but it wasn’t enough. She found herself yearning for more. This man who she and that young Guardian had chosen to partner with—there was more to learn. Because in all honesty, his ability to transform still preserved his position as a suspect in the grand scheme of things.  
  
Complete trust was still allusive.

As she stood in the silence of her sanctuary, her mind consumed by thoughts of a man who she had chosen to share this phase of her life with—she was struck by a realization. Why not ask a neutral party? Someone who could possibly sate her curiosity.  
  
It was late in the night, but that mattered very little to immortals, time just seeped for them all. Eris had gathered her comm, sitting upon the edge of her bed, and as she adjusted to the correct frequency and channel, she waited as her hail was answered:

_“Hello there!” His deep baritone was always friendly and inviting, even when the Titan hadn’t a clue who he was speaking to._

_She couldn’t help the twitch at the corner of her lips. Saint-14 had that effect on people. One could be in the foulest of moods, and a simple greeting from him was enough to make anyone forget all about their morose frame of mind._

_Eris would admit, she was quite fond of him._

_“Good evening, Saint.”  
  
“Miss Eris!” His excitement was so sincere, it was truly flattering, “Hello! How are you?! I not see you in so long!”_

_“It has been far too long.” She agreed. A constant about Saint, was that he seemed to repeatedly forget he had been dead for quite some time._

_“How I serve you?” His broken English was always charming._

_“I am sorry to trouble you over this,” She began, for in truth, she did feel rather foolish for bothering the Titan with something that had no influence on the more crucial issues in their system._

_“I have no trouble when friends come to talk!”_

_That did cause her smile to grow slightly. Everyone was a “friend” in Saint’s eyes._

_She swallowed, her heart beating just a little faster. No turning back—_

_“I believe you knew the man called The Drifter during the Dark Ages.” Her intonation left a question within the comment._

_“The Raggedy-Man?”  
  
She inwardly chuckled at Saint’s bestowed nickname for The Drifter, “Yes. The same.”_

_“Dah! I know him in Pilgrim Guard. He was man called Eli then.” Saint confirmed what she already knew, “We not close, but I knew him. In Guard, we had teams,” He went on to explain,_

_“We all divided. Let’s see...um...Raggedy-Man was in Orin’s team. There was: Jashen...Nave, I think?...Paveh, Kaylinn, Orin and Eli.”  
  
She listened as he grunted his approval; certain he had remembered correctly, _

_“Yes. They good team. Very strong. Orin was best fighter on team! She was amazing! They call me the Man version of her!” The Titan laughed, “They say we twins!”_

_Eris repressed a chuckle of her own._

_“And Eli—” Saint paused, and Eris had this strange feeling that Saint was second-guessing himself; as though he wasn’t sure he should be sharing something with her.  
  
But then he continued—_

_“Eli was not Titan. But he fight like one.”  
  
She found that most curious._

_“Orin bring him to us. Say he great fighter. She say he will make us all a better team...” He paused a second, as though he were carefully choosing his words, “He was Orin’s husband.”  
  
Eris felt the pang of something deep inside. She already knew this information, The Drifter had told her so, but hearing Saint say it...inexplicably, it stirred a strange feeling within Eris. _

_“They keep it secret, but we find out.” Saint also confirmed another claim of The Drifter’s, and Eris acknowledged that thus far, the Raggedy-Man had been honest with her. Any iota of doubt of his claims was being chased off, and that gave her the courage to speak the question that had been gnawing at her.  
  
“What was he like?” Her voice was low, the question spoken with a nervous weight upon it. Anticipating what Saint would say._

_The Titan didn’t answer immediately, there was a pregnant silence that followed, and then—_

_“Eli...he was good man.” It was a firm declaration, “He was very funny! Very clever!” There was laughter in Saint’s tone, but all at once, it faded to silence.  
  
Eris waited. Breath bated, and when Saint spoke again, his voice was gentle and filled with melancholy:  
  
“He had heart full of love...but now...his heart is broken.”_

_At his words, a heaviness descended upon Eris. Something that left her aching, for she could feel the truth of the words, and how sad it made the man who spoke them._ _A tragic truth had been given._

_“He is not lost though.” Something eager was rising in Saint’s tone, “I visit him sometime. I bring cookies...we eat, we talk, and I see—”_

_Something positive and optimistic._

_“I see Eli again. Eli is still there.”_

_The Titan sounded so certain of his belief, and Eris felt the urge to confirm that she knew it to be true as well...for she had seen Eli before. Sitting upon the floor, with eyes gazing up at her; a bit too honest._

_She didn’t know what to say. What could she possibly say? For in this moment, she had been given a gift of knowledge, and what she would do with it, was still a mystery. Nonetheless, she was grateful to Saint, for if anyone could be trusted to speak only the truth, it was Saint-14._

_She parted her lips to thank him, but Saint cut her off:  
_

_“Miss Eris...please, be kind to him.” There was near pleading in his tone, “Be kind to the Raggedy-Man.”  
  
A warmth rising behind her eyes, a tightness in her chest. Why did his request affect her so? His words an affliction, and his voice laced with deep sorrow._

_“So many people hurt him. He pretend he not care—he not show it...but he feel it.”_

_Eris understood. She deeply understood. For in the days she had returned to the City, she had exhausted her energy building up a wall inside. Not letting anyone see how much pain they caused her._

_She had learned what she needed.  
  
“Thank you, Saint.”_

_She was about to bid him farewell, but it seemed the Titan had one last word of advice:_

_“Ask him to tell you story sometime.”  
  
Eris blinked, “Pardon?”  
  
“The Drifter,” Saint clarified, “Ask him to tell you story. When Eli tells stories...you will have the most beautiful dreams.”_

_Eris didn’t know what to say to that. His words brought so many more questions—What did he mean by stories? Ask The Drifter a story about what?  
  
But before she could speak any of these inquiries, Saint closed the conversation._

_“Spokoinoy nochi, ditya_ _.”_

_A small smile upon her lips, “Spokoinov nochi droog.”_

_Then the call ended, and Eris realized that Saint hadn’t asked why she wanted to know about the Raggedy-Man. She was grateful for his discretion, and it was situations like this that verified how little credit people gave the Titan.  
  
_

And now, Eris sat before The Drifter with a mind distracted by Saint’s words. She met his gaze as he continued to watch her with worry upon his brow.  
  
“I’m fine, Rat.”  
  
He narrowed his eyes, “Bull, hun. What’s up?”

She didn’t answer, and watched as he sighed, leaning back in his seat with crossed arms; gracing her with an expression that clearly said he had all night to wait. Eris wasn’t amused.  
  
“I assure you I am not in any distress,” She lied, “Let us resume the game.”  
  
But he didn’t budge, “You’re not your usual bitch-ass-self tonight. I mean...you’s always a bitch...but not so much tonight. What’s up?”

She narrowed her eyes at his crude manner, while he opened his own eyes wider in return, fixing her with a wide, patronizing stare and a tilted head. She would not be goaded, she didn’t owe him an explanation about anything.

“If you choose not to believe me, that’s on you.” She informed him, “Regardless, it’s none of your business if something were to be wrong.”

That earned her a scoff.

“Okie dokie, Little-Miss- _Thang!_ ” He bobbed his head while his voice rose a few octaves; mocking her, “Since when did I become unworthy of your time?”

_Wait, what?_

“I beg your pardon?”

“Ya obviously don’t wanna be here,” He glared, “And if there’s truly nothin’ wrong like ya say, then your ass is clearly just floatin’ through the night.”

He wasn’t right, but he wasn’t wrong. She didn’t want to admit the truth, that her mind had been consumed with thoughts of him. It would be...humiliating. It would make things uncomfortable. It would upset things, it could even harm this partnership they had entered into.  
  
 _Partnership? Is that all?_

She was hesitant to put any other title upon their situation, and as she mulled over his words, she realized he was pouting again. Agitated at the idea that she wasn’t—

_Does he think I do not desire his company any longer?_

Her heart skipped at this realization, and she pondered for a moment; thinking back to everything. True, she had come to him in an unpleasant mood, disregarding everything he said as she had taken a seat at the table. “ _Hmph’s_ ” had been her only response to any questions or statements he made, and when he had laid dinner before her, she had merely picked at it. She hadn’t even said “thank you.”

He had cracked a few jokes, but she hadn’t reacted. He tried to stir up a topic, but she had merely shrugged. She had been discourteous, and he had felt slighted. He had misread...had misunderstood. He thought she was disinterested in _him_ ; in everything about the evening.

He was wrong. But hell—what was he supposed to think?

“I apologize.” She meant it, but the tone of her voice didn’t reflect it, and she couldn’t understand why it sounded so insincere.

She really was sorry to have offended him, but The Drifter seemed to have picked up on the tone, not the words.

“Blow smoke up my ass, why don’t ya?” His stare was harsh, and his posture guarded with arms still crossed at his chest. He was insulted, and now, he was itching for a fight. A way to reclaim his pride.

But Eris was not going to play this game. She was too tired. Too distracted by more crucial matters. However...she knew how to end this argument before it could even build traction—

“Would you like me to leave, Rat?”

There it was. A loaded question. Whatever answer he may give, he would be painting himself the loser. If he said “Yes,” then she would leave and that would be the end of their time together; and she might never return. If he said “No,” he would be revealing too much of himself. Of his desire for companionship. His pride would take another blow.  
  
Eris watched his face drain of its confidence. Eyes unblinking as he processed her question. He knew exactly what he had just walked into, and his posture became just a bit more stiff. The ball was in his court, and he clearly didn’t know what to do with it.

Then his eyes narrowed, and his lips twitch in just the slightest expression of condescension, and he swiftly turned the tables on her:  
  
“Do _you_ wanna leave?”  
  
She froze, her mind quickly comprehending what had just happened, and she was ashamed to admit that he had just outwitted her.

_Dammit!_

Now, _she_ was in the proverbial hot-seat. If she said “Yes” she would reinforce his insecurity that she no longer wished to engage in their weekly routine. If she said “No” she would be sacrificing her pride.

How is it they could always lock each other in stalemates?

She had to find a way to turn it back on him...  
  
“I’m asking _you_ the question.” She fixed him with a pointed stare, a challenge in her countenance.  
  
But that simply earned her a sneer in return.  
  
“Avoidin’ somethin’?” A smirk began to grow on his face.  
  
“You are the one deflecting, Rat.”  
  
He chuckled, “Ya think I don’t know that word, huh Moondust?”  
  
“I’m certain you do, because you’re still engaging in its definition as we speak.”

“So are you!” He declared with a satisfied grin.  
  
 _Damn him!_

“Are we finishing our game or not?” She challenged, folding her hands upon the table.  
  
He burst into laughter, throwing his own hands in the air as he tilted further back in his seat,

“Deflection from a professional Ostrich! Glorious!” He then added insult to injury by giving her a round of applause, “Ladies and Gentleman, the coup de gras approaches!”

He quickly leaned forward, elbows on the table with his chin resting in his hands. Staring at her with excited anticipation.

“Well, go on, Three-Eyes!” His smile was enormous, “Hit me!”

Eris’ hands began to shake, rage was building inside her. How dare he make a mockery of her!

She should just leave. Just make her way to the egress. But then...that would be admitting defeat and feeding The Drifter’s insecurities that were clearly being projected onto her.

No. No, she would stand her ground and ignore the bait he was laying out for her. Without a word, her hands reclaimed her cards, and she cast one upon the table; starting a new pile.  
  
QUEEN OF DIAMONDS. He owed her two cards.

“Pay the honor.” She commanded.

Looking up, she found him sitting with his chin still in his hands, and the most expectant look of amusement on his face. He didn’t blink, his smile never wavered, and she wanted to throttle him in that moment.  
  
“Pay.” Her voice was harder, firmer.

He chuckled, “Tell me, darlin’—do you want to leave?”

He wasn’t dropping the subject.

“You owe me two cards.” But she wasn’t dropping hers either.

“Ugghhh!” He pressed his palms into his eyes in a demonstration of pure exasperation, “You are—” he began, “the single most stubborn, frustratin’ person I’ve ever met!”  
  
He allowed his hands to drop onto the table with a _Smack!_ Fixing her with an expression of pure amazement.  
  
“I’m dead serious, hun! I’ve been all across this universe, and _YOU_ take the spice cake for absolute bitchery! My God! I oughta take your show on the road!”

She narrowed her gaze, sitting just a little taller, “Pay me two cards.”

Her refusal to react to his words merely pushed him into further exasperation, and he burst into laughter, rocking back in his chair almost violently. Smacking a hand upon his forehead, he watched her with disbelieving eyes, and the longer she stared, the harder he laughed.

Eris didn’t react. She wouldn’t budge. She just sat and watched as he sank so low in his seat, his eyes were peering over the edge of the table at her. Gleaming with humor.

“Christ, woman! I need a drink whenever I’m ‘round ya!”

And with that declaration, he brought his fingers to his mouth and let out a loud whistle.  
  
“Hey Dumbass! Get yo’ ass up and get me a drink!”

Eris turned to see the Ghost appear once more from its fortress of solitude, its red eye glaring as it floated towards their table.

“Why don’t you get your own damn drink?” There was the growl of something in Eris’ voice, a threat.

She was tired of his constant abuse towards his Ghost. Week after week...it had gone on long enough, and with her mood already boiling over with indignation, she made her displeasure known.  
  
“Cause he’s gotta earn his keep!” The Drifter fired back.  
  
He turned his attention to his Ghost, who hovered over the table with an air of impatience.

“Just get me sometin’—I don’t care what. Just make sure it’s strong. Don’t short-change me!”

The Ghost glared harder, something silent passing between them.  
  
“Don’t ya give me that look! You gonna get it!”

“Why do you speak so harshly to him?” Eris demanded. She needed to know what the little light had done to be so deserving of such harsh treatment.

“Cause he’s a dumbass!” The Drifter’s response was curt and completely useless.  
  
“Your Ghost deserves to be treated with dignity and respect. All Ghosts do.”

At her words, the little light in question turned to face her. It’s red iris moving over her as though she were the single most peculiar thing it had ever seen. But The Drifter burst into laughter, head tilted back and nearly hugging his ribs in sheer hysterics.  
  
Eris bristled, and sat a little taller, preparing herself with defensive posturing while she watched him grab the edges of his chair, shoving himself upright to be properly seated. He fixed her with a patronizing grin.  
  
“Sweetheart, I thought I already told ya the truth about Ghosts. You’re too young and too naïve.”  
  
Rage was about to burst from her. Insulting her in such a manner—who the hell did he think he was?! True, she was much younger than him...in fact, she wasn’t entirely sure how large the age gap between them truly was, but if she were to guess—it was substantial. Nevertheless, that did not give him the right to treat her like a child!

“You judge them all based on the actions of a few.” She declared, but it was met with a scoff form her host.  
  
“Ya haven’t seen just how nasty this lil’ fucker can be.” He nodded his head in his own Ghost’s direction, “Ya ever met Sagira? Ya wanna talk vindictive little bitch, spend a day with her.”  
  
Throwing Osiris’ Ghost into this—he was bold. Eris had met Sagira before through her friendship with Ikora, and during that time, yes...Eris would admit that the little female Ghost certainly had a sassy way about her, but nothing too disagreeable. How did The Drifter know Osiris’ Ghost well enough to make that judgement call?  
  
Eris’ eyes shifted back to the Ghost above their table, and she realized that if she really wanted answers that weren’t laced in heavy sarcasm and condescension, she was better off asking the little light directly.  
  
“I didn’t get your name.” She addressed the Ghost, waiting for its response —but then the strangest thing happened. Instead of an answer, the Ghost merely stared at her. No sound, no movement, it merely hovered, and Eris began to worry at its behavior.

_Why doesn’t he answer?_

The Drifter was within her line of vision, and he sat back with his arms folded at his chest, a cocky smirk upon his lips as he watched her try to communicate with his Ghost. There was a sick amusement in his expression, and it agitated her.

She ignored him, keeping her attention on the little drone. Was it shy? Ghosts did share similar traits as humans. Maybe...was it timid out of fear? The Drifter was extremely harsh when speaking to it, perhaps it was too afraid to speak in front of him.  
  
“What do I call you, little one?”

Still...nothing.  
  
“He ain’t got no name.” The Drifter answered for it.  
  
“I wasn’t speaking to you, Rat.” She snapped.  
  
“You’re gonna have no choice, darlin’!” He laughed, “Ya ain’t gonna get an answer outta him! He can’t speak!”

Eris froze. The words sinking in, but...unwilling to believe it was factual.  
  
“What?” It was nearly whisper, and her eyes moved over the Ghost, taking in every detail of its distressed shell.  
  
The Ghost continued to stare at her as The Drifter continued, “He’s mute. Can’t say a word.”

A pause. Disbelief rushing over Eris. She had never heard of such a thing. A mute Ghost? How was that even possible?  
  
“Whatcha lookin’ at, dumbass?!” The Drifter’s rudeness broke through her perturbed thoughts, “Go get my drink!”

The Ghost rounded back on its Chosen with one last look of disdain before it quickly disappeared into the kitchen. Leaving the two humans sitting in awkward silence.

Eris’ minds was a whirlwind of new concerns and confused thoughts. How could his Ghost possibly not be able to speak? Did something happen to it? And it was that question that led her into a new direction—did The Drifter _happen_ to it? Righteous anger settling in her chest, she turned her gaze back to the con-man before her.

“What the hell did you do to him?” Her voice was low, nearly a hiss as she demanded an explanation.  
 _  
He did something to it. It’s shell is proof._

But the man didn’t answer her immediately. He continued to lounge in his typical lazy manner, studying her with a look in his eye—something she did not like. It was...arrogant.

“I improved ‘im.” It was his final response, and it merely served to provoke Eris into letting more of her temper slip.

“You what?”  
  
His teeth began to show, “I _improved_ ‘im. Made ‘im better.”

_Was he serious? Was he actually serious?!_

“You took away his voice...” Her hands began to shake, and she quickly clasped them together, “What did you do?!”  
  
He narrowed his eyes, “Hey now, indoor voice.”  
  
 _That cheeky, son-of-a-bitch!_

Eris couldn’t believe what she was hearing, and her thoughts about him began to shift. Saint had said he was a good man, Eris herself had seen how kind and compassionate he could be, Orin had loved him! The purest woman in whole goddamn universe had loved _him!_ But he had treated his Ghost so badly! So abusively! How could a “good” person do such a cruel thing?!  
  
It merely validated...that he wasn’t truly a good man after all.

She wracked her brain, organizing her thoughts before she spoke, but the Ghost returned, coming to hover above their table once more. A shimmer of light, a pixelated dusting in the air, and a green bottle of liquor and a shot glass appeared before The Drifter; who neither thanked the Ghost nor acknowledged its presence. It was a slave to its master. Eris hated him for it. Hated him for taking for granted what a precious gift he had. What she wouldn’t give...

She began to shake as the memories came—

_Black halls that twisted and turned...being hunted...tracking her every move...sensing her light._

Eris tried to steady her breath, tried to focus on the table beneath her hands—the smoothness of the wood, the scuff marks from years of wear and tear—

_A sacrifice. A way to try and save her. Her Ghost made the choice—_

No! Not now! Not now! Not in front of him!

_“PLEEEEEEASE! PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME ALONE! I’M SO SCAAAAAARREEEDDD!”_

**ENOUGH!!  
  
** “How dare you!!” She roared, slamming her hands upon the table with a horribly loud _Smack!_ and she watched as The Drifter and his Ghost jumped; both looking to her with shock and confusion.

“You treat your Ghost like he’s an object! Not an intelligent being with thoughts and feelings!”

He cocked a brow, perplexed at her outburst, his hand frozen in mid-reach towards the bottle of alcohol.  
  
“What’re ya—”  
  
“You cruel, selfish degenerate!” She cut him off with a scathing insult.  
  
“Woah! Calm down there, hun—”  
  
“Do NOT tell me what to do! Don’t EVER tell me what to do!”  
  
The Drifter’s mouth hung slightly open, disbelief coating him like a thick tar, while the eye of his Ghost seemed to grow wider; its little shell shaking slightly as it watched Eris lose what little tolerance she had left.

“I was beginning to think that the rumors—the stories about you were merely _that._ Nothing more than just tales. But now I see...” She hissed, “I see what you really are! Heartless and hateful! DREDGEN!”  
  
It came out. She honestly hadn’t meant to say it, but it had passed to the forefront of her mind, and her lips had formed the word. And that sealed it—

She ceased her attack immediately when a transformation began to unfold before her eyes, and her heart beat quicker as the room suddenly fell cold. Then she saw it—The Drifter...his posture...his appearance...shifted. He seemed to grow just a little taller, and his face grew hard, as the shock in his eyes morphed into a glowing stare of pure dominance. Something began to permeate the air...something foul...something terrifying.  
  
 _I know this feeling...I know it well...  
  
_ The shadows! She watched in disbelief as every shadow in the room began to drag themselves across the walls and along the floor...closer...closer...towards the table, towards The Drifter, and when they touched his form, she watched in awe as they disappeared; absorbed by the man who sat before her.

Her eyes met his just in time to see inky black scuttle across the sclera, and his iris glowed a sickening green. One second there, the next—gone.

She knew what this was, for she had lived amongst it for too long.  
 _  
Darkness._

His voice broke the quiet, “Don’t _ever_ call me that again.”

It was commanding. Calm and yet filled with such menace; the promise of true violence and fear. But Eris was no stranger to such things. She had survived the worst of it. There was nothing he could do that would eclipse the torture she had endured.

_The high ceilings of Elder Gods. Buttresses embroidered with ancient scripts long forgotten to time. Pain...so much pain...so much humiliation._

There was _nothing_ that could ever hurt her that way again. Death would be kinder.

She did not fear The Drifter. She did not fear the Dredgens, and she stared back with equal ferocity. The two of them, locked in a silent battle that pitted their own darkness against one another. She wouldn’t concede. She had more to say...since the Ghost couldn’t say anything at all.  
  
“Are you going to try and prove me wrong, Rat? Are you going to defend your honor and say that I’m wrong by proving that I am, indeed, right?” She backed him into a corner.

The ink in his eye flickered once more, “You have no idea what you’re talking about, little girl.”

“Call me a child, Old Man, but I’ve bled my age out long ago.”

“I would hold my tongue if I were you.”  
  
She was taken slightly aback, for his language had shifted. It was subtle, but she had caught it.

_He’s changed character once more._

Her attention shifted when his Ghost swooped a little closer to her face. There was a desperation in its form, its little shell shifting about...as though it were shaking its proverbial head _“No.”_

Confusion was descending upon Eris, for The Drifter’s Ghost seemed highly concerned about negating her words.

_Why? What is going on?_

“This conversation is over.” He growled, and her eyes shot back to The Drifter, who met her gaze with one of stern command. But if he thought he had any authority over her, he was greatly mistaken.  
  
“I will speak what I feel needs to be spoken when I please!”

“You need to stop.”

“You are not going to bully me the way you do him.” Eris gestured towards the Ghost, who shook his “head” more insistently; little desperate _Chirps!_ escaping him.

She went on, “What did you do to him? _Truly?!_ ”

Silence. She watched as The Drifter studied her, unblinking, and she could see that he was determining whether she was worthy of the truth.  
  
 _Bastard!_

A moment passed. Then another. Until finally—

“I gutted him and fused him together with the parts of five dead Ghosts.”

Her mind fell blank. Unsure of what she had just heard.

“You what?” Her voice was barely a whisper.  
  
He narrowed his eyes, searching her own for something, but she had no idea what he could possibly be seeking. He must have found it, because he continued:

“I killed my crew. Then I hunted down and killed their Ghosts—one by one...” His voice was cold and calculated, “I took them apart...Then I took him apart,” he gestured towards his Ghost. “I rebuilt him using the parts I killed for, and now—” A small smirk played at his lips, “He can do things no other Ghost can.”

She had never heard of anything so malicious, and in this moment, she _hated_ him so strongly. He was no better than the ones they fought against!

“How could you—how could you do such a thing?! How barbaric and evil are you?!”

 _WHAM!_ The Drifter’s fist came down so hard upon the table, it was a wonder he hadn’t cracked it or even shattered the liquor bottle.

“BECAUSE HE TOLD ME TO!” The Drifter shouted, finger pointing at his Ghost, and there was so much pain, so much rage in his voice, that Eris fell numb.

She had never heard him raise his voice like that before. She had never seen him lose his temper to the point of sheer fury. Her mind empty, heart skipping a beat, she had felt the strike of his words as though they were the fists of an enemy. Had he just accused his Ghost? Slowly, Eris turned her face towards the drone, looking for validation...looking at him as though she were seeing him for the first time.

His Ghost...his Ghost had orchestrated its own devastation...

She didn’t know what to say. Should she ask if it were true? But the little light must have sensed her thoughts, as it turned back to her. A gentle melancholy in its visage, and it nodded its confirmation to her.  
  
The Drifter spoke the truth, and as Eris studied the red iris that was fixed upon her, she knew it was undeniable.

_Why would a Ghost do such a thing?_

“I don’t understand...” Her voice was more subdued now, the anger having retreated at this new discovery.

And clearly, the same could be said for The Drifter, for she watched all the strength flee from him, and he slouched in his seat once more. The terrifying figure who had sat before her mere seconds ago was gone, leaving behind a tired and broken soul. This sudden and dramatic change was astounding, and all Eris could do was sit, and watch, and listen—

“He told me to do it.” His voice was small and weak, eyes refusing to meet her own. Instead, he fixed his gaze upon the table top. A focal point to ground himself.

“We were dying. We were stranded on a planet where there was no light. Cold, dark...it consumed everything.” He sounded far away, slipping into a memory.

Eris tensed, jaw tightening. She watched him pause, taking a moment to contain his thoughts, arranging them, choosing his words carefully. An attempt to avoid triggers. She knew _this_ all too well.

“There were these... _things_. Some...creatures on this planet. They were watchin’ us, stalkin’ us.”

Her anxiety rising when she realized what he was inferring.

Too familiar. _Far_ too familiar.

_Suffocating darkness, so thick it drained the very life out of everything...killing light...killing sound. Even her own panicked breaths...she could no longer hear them. So empty. So alone._

_But there was something there...in the dark...they watched her...laughed at her..._

“My light was gone...as was his.” He gestured towards the Ghost once more, its eye fixed upon Eris with a compassionate gaze. Assuring her that what she heard from the man was the unfortunate truth, and there was no need to be angry or upset about any of it.

“My crew lost their goddamn minds...started killin’ each other.” He still wouldn’t look at her, “I ended the fightin’. Put ‘em outta their miseries. Then...we were both alone.”

Eris knew. She _knew._  
  
 _The screaming had stopped...she lay in silence. Left alone...left all alone..._

“We were both gonna die. It was too cold—insanely cold! My fire had gone out...his light had faded, and those _things_...they were watching us—waiting.”

 _Glowing eyes, and whispered taunts—“Poor little girl!”_ _Trying to run, but unable to see—flailing, falling._ _“The pretty little thing cannot see—but we can see it...”_

She was shaking something awful now.

“He told me there was a way,” He swallowed, “A way we could both survive.”

_“Eris, it’s the only way...”_

“But I had to do something...awful.” His voice was fading into a whisper.  
  
No! She didn’t want to hear anymore. She didn’t need to. She understood—she did.

_“Eris, don’t look back!”_

_And she hadn’t. She ran and ran—lungs about to burst. And then she ran some more._

She shook her head, “Please, don’t.”

At her request, his eyes shifted up to her own, the smallest flicker of confusion that quickly faded into something of gratitude. He would be spared the memory. She would spare him. Her own remorse...her own guilt...it was the same as his own. Brought about by a desperate action.

Oh, he had no idea how badly she understood, and then the thought arose as to whether she would share it with him. Share the truth about what she had done...the truth of what had happened to her eyes. No one knew. Not even Ikora. When she had returned to the city, when she had awoken in her hospital bed, when they had interrogated her—she had lied. Because the truth, was far too shameful.

_How wicked am I?_

Her thoughts were interrupted as The Drifter sighed, reaching out to take up the bottle he had requested. He popped the cap, and began to pour himself a shot. A quiet between them only broken by the cascading liquid into glass.

_Should I tell him?_

She didn’t have the nerve. The courage to tell the truth still alluded her, and she was unsure if it would ever come.  
  
 _Maybe...maybe one day...I will tell him._

Her nerves on edge, her mind in argument with itself, and a sudden urge came over her—

_I need a drink._

And just as The Drifter finished pouring his own, Eris leaned forward, snatching the glass before he could protest and downing it in one shot. It was strong, bitter and yet, sweet like a fruit juice. Yet...there was something strange about it.  
  
She cringed and then nearly jumped out of her skin when a loud _Shriek!_ came from the Ghost. Her eyes whipping towards it, as it shook almost spastically in what was clearly great distress. Its eye wide, fixed on her in an expression she could only assume was shock, and Eris felt worry descending upon her.  
  
 _Why is he so upset?_

The Drifter too seemed equally as startled and confused, and he stared up at his Ghost with a furrowed brow, watching him closely. The little drone twisted about, making eye contact with its Chosen, still squawking in anxious fury, and Eris watched as The Drifter’s eyes widened; turning away to snatch the bottle off the table and scan the contents.  
  
 _What?! What is wrong?!_

Her heart began to beat a little faster, and nearly burst from her chest when The Drifter suddenly rounded on his Ghost in absolute fury:

“YOU LIL’ SHIT!”

The Ghost twisted about in the air, flying to and fro around the room in what could have been panic, and Eris was paralyzed with unease, made all the worse when The Drifter fixed her with the most shocked and worried expression she had ever seen.  
  
“What is it?” She didn’t yell, but her tone was certainly forceful.

He didn’t answer, he just stared, and Eris felt a terrible foreboding—What had she drank? Dammit! Why didn’t he answer?!

Then she saw a smile slowly spreading along his face, eyes aglow, an expression of hilarity mixing with disbelief...and then he burst into hysterical laughter.

“Holy shit, Moondust!” He practically howled, “Ya just downed a whole shot of J’alik Rum!”

_WHAT?!_

“What do you mean?!” She couldn’t hide the slight panic in her voice. If...if he was telling the truth...then the night was about to take a turn for the absolute worst.  
  
“Isn’t that illegal?!” It was a stupid question, she knew. Everything The Drifter owned and did was illegal, but she was having a difficult time keeping her composure.

J’alik Rum was not meant for human consumption. Because it caused psychosis.

“Why the hell would you have that in your kitchen, Rat?!”  
  
“I don’t drink it!” He defended, nose scrunched in annoyance, “I keep bottles of ‘em for bartering and trade! I’m a SCAVENGER, honey-bunny! It’s how I survive!”

It made sense. It made complete sense. But what didn’t make sense was why the Ghost would bring it out!

“Why did he bring it to you?!” Her tone was rising, her unease at an all-time high. She was losing her well-practiced composure.

The Drifter’s gaze shifted towards his Ghost, who still fluttered about in high-anxiety across the room, “Tryin’ ta get even with me, huh?! How’d that work out for ya?!”

“Okay, just—” Eris put her hands up in a halting gesture, “Just stop! How do I negate the effects?”

Calm. Rationalize.

The Drifter’s eyes came to meet her own, and for the very first time in the nearly two years she had sat before him at that table, his gaze was filled with pity. But...it was merely a mockery of true pity, as his smile was still all teeth.  
  
“Ya don’t hun!” He laughed around his words, “Ya gotta let it run its course!”  
  
 _No..nononononoNO!_

She did not need this!

His giggling was getting harder, more erratic, “You’re about to take a massive trip, darlin’!”  
  
“No.” She said the word without thinking. It was more of an exclamation that she could not deal with this situation right now. She needed to return to Luna. She needed to leave.  
  
“Oh yeeeeeeeaaaaaahhhhhhhh!” He hooted, his voice increasing in pitch,

J’alik Rum. It was a traditional drink brewed within Psion culture, and highly favored by the Cabal. It got it’s English name from its similarity to Earth rum-types. Same color and fruity flavor. However, it had the most outrageous effects on human beings and Awoken. Drinking it didn’t produce usual drunkenness, instead, it produced a more drug-induced effect. Hallucinations, erratic thoughts, even severe panic attacks and mania.

This was awful.

“How long before the effects begin?” She asked, swallowing down her concern to appear more controlled.

“Hmmm....” He pondered a moment, “A few minutes or so.”  
  
She took a deep breath, hypersensitive to the feeling of her own body; trying to detect any changes.

“Alright.” She cleared her throat, stifling the nervous tremble. She had never had J’alik before, and she intended to combat it with all the will-power she possessed.

Sitting straight in her chair, hands folded in her lap, she stared back into The Drifter’s overly amused face. He leaned forward with arms stretched upon the table, excitement blanketing every inch of him. He was enjoying this far too much.

A minute passed in silence. Eris internally fidgeting under The Drifter's scrutiny. He watched her like a specimen in a jar, far too excited about all this.  
  
“Are you just going to brazenly stare at me for the remainder of the evening?” She didn’t bother to hide the annoyance in her tone.

“Maybe.” He snickered.

She couldn’t believe this...this was a nightmare scenario for the likes of her. She was a pillar of self-control. The epitome of composure, and she had worked hard for it. But now—

Maybe it wouldn’t affect her so terribly...

A massive sigh from across the table, and she watched in disbelief as The Drifter snatched up the shot glass, poured himself a drink and threw it back without hesitation. He cringed before smacking his lips.

 _Oh no...no, he did NOT just do that!_  
  
“Ugh! That’s some strong shit—” His voice was dry and hoarse as the alcohol scalded the inside of his throat.

Eris was appalled, panic rising again, “Wait, shouldn’t you remain in clarity in case I become...I don’t know—reckless or dangerous?”

“Too late now!” He declared, before descending into another sputtering burst of laughter, “SHOTGUN!”  
  
And with that he flipped the glass upside down and brought it down upon the table with an aggressive _Smack!_

So, this was how it was going to be for the remainder of the night? Fine. Eris had survived great unspeakable horrors, and she had been drunk before. In fact, she would never allow The Drifter to know this, but she had been young and curious enough in her early days to have...experimented. Nothing hard though. No, nothing like _this._

She took a deep breath. Braced herself, and waited.  
  
How bad coul—

_Ohhh! OHHH IT WAS BAAAAAD!  
  
_

Eris lay upon the table, feet dangling off the edge as she stared up at the ceiling. Her arms raised, hands moving from side to side. They were so full of texture...so full of imperfections! How had she never noticed this before?!  
  
“Hands are so fucking weiiirrrrd...” She mumbled.

“They ain’t got nothin’ on feet!" The Drifter responded, and from behind her, she could hear the heavy _Thumps!_ of an object or two being dropped upon the ground.

Then suddenly, two bare feet covered in tattoos came down upon her shoulders.  
  
“Seeeeeeeee?!” He shrieked, which earned a shriek from her in return.  
  
“Aaagghh! RAT! Get those off me!” She shoved them aside, and they fell upon the table with a _Smack!_  
  
He was giggling like a maniac, slouched down so low in his chair that he could raise his legs to place them on either side of her. His feet upon the table, her head between his knees. If they were standing, he’d be sitting on her shoulders. She let out a breath, groaning in fussiness...cause really....she was feeling fussy!

_I can hear the ceiling!_

Creaks and groans of metal in the coldness of space. Everything could speak...you just had to listen hard enough. Or maybe...there was something out there walking around on the ship!  
  
 _Nope! No! NO!_

Oh, why did orange juice have to have so much sugar in it?! She hated sugar!

_Stop! Focus! You’re letting the drink win!_

It was like watching herself from the outside. Trying to maintain control. Fighting back, fighting hard!

Her eyes shifted to look at the The Drifter’s foot beside her shoulder, noticing a massive snake inked into his flesh that wrapped around his ankle and slid up his leg; disappearing beneath the fabric of his pants.

“Why snakes?” She muttered, “Why do you put snakes on everything?”

“My spaghetti friends?” He paused, “Cause snakes are bad-asses!”  
  
“They have no limbs.”  
  
“Ya’ll brave until one starts slithering towards ya!”

“Hmm...” She nodded, “You’re not wrong.”

She continued to stare into the eyes of the Viper...its scales shifting...slithering about on his skin...and then it winked at her.  
  
“Ugh! Get your feet down!” She growled, “That damn snake is mocking me and I don’t like it.”

She shoved at the offending foot, eliciting another bout of giggles from the man behind her.

“You’re so mean!” He proclaimed, “That’s why no one likes ya, Three-Eyes!”  
  
Eris shoved harder at his feet, causing his legs to twist in an uncomfortable position and he yelped in protest.  
  
“No one likes you either, Rat!”  
  
“Not true! You looooovvveeeee meeeeee!”

The hell she did! She loved him the same way she loved a broken leg...no, wait! Better yet...she loved him the way she loved freezer burned food—NO! Better yet! She loved him the way she loved wading through a tidal pool on a hot day!  
  
 _No...no, wait...that was wrong._ _That came out wrong._  
  
She loved wading through tidal pools on a hot day. She _used_ to love doing that...when she did do that...

“Remove your legs! I want to roll over!” She commanded.  
  
She pushed herself onto an elbow, shoving his legs harder to enforce her order, but that merely earned harder giggles from the man in her way. He snorted, finally acquiescing by bringing his knees to his chest and slowly sinking off his chair and onto the floor beneath the table.

Eris tried to sit up, but a rush of nausea overcame her.  
  
 _Oh no! Oh...that’s not good—_

Slowly rolling onto her stomach, she looked down to the man upon the floor. He lay in a ball, still giggling, still snorting.

“Hey!” She barked, “I think I’m going to vomit.”  
  
“NOT ON ME!” He screamed, and quickly rolled onto his back, using the table as a shield.

_He’s gone!_

“Where did you go?!” Panic rose in her.

Oh crap! She couldn’t see him anymore!

_The hell did he go?!_

Silence. No movement.  
  
 _Crap!_

She froze...focusing. Focusing as hard as she could, but the abyss was stealing away everything! There was a dot that kept moving about the room, and it was ruining everything it touched!  
  
“BOOOOOOOOO!!!!”  
  
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

He had successfully spooked her, and she listened as he fell into hysterics at her girlish scream of terror.

_WHY?! WHY DID HE DO THAT?!_

Her brain was in sheer chaos, and she leaned over the side of the table, hanging upside down to see him clutching his ribs and practically crying with laughter.  
  
Her hand reached out, pointing at him accusatorily. She was going to tell him what an asshole he was! She was going to lecture him on the fundamentals of good manners and how it was absolutely rude to scare a person as he did! But all she got out was another scream. He pointed back at her and screamed as well.

And they continued to scream at each other. So Mindless. So Senseless.

“Why are you screaming?!” She demanded.  
  
“I dunno! Why are you screamin’?!”  
  
“Because!”

Her answer was a valid one. There would be no arguing.

They stared at one another, and Eris could see colors and lines moving all about him. They were speaking...saying things...whispering secrets.  
  
“I need to get outta here.” He announced, and she nodded her agreement, watching as he bent his knees and used his feet to shove himself along the rug and out from under the table. He came to rest in the middle of the floor, lying upon his back.

From across the room, Eris could see the Ghost lounging upon its pillows. Watching them with an expression of annoyance.  
  
 _Cheeky little thing!_

The Drifter noticed its attention, and tilted his head back; looking upon it from an upside down angle.  
  
“This all your fault! Fffffffffucker!”

It rolled its eye. Eris could have sworn she saw it roll its eye!

_Stop! I’m being ridiculous! Focus! Focus!_

She pulled herself up to sit properly upon the table, resting her head in her hands as she moaned in frustration.  
  
“Ugh! This is awful! How long does it last?!” She practically wailed.  
  
“Forever and ever and ever!” The voice form the floor was serious, but there was no way in hell it was the truth.  
  
She knew that! Yes, she knew what was true! She still knew what was real! She was real! The whole goddamn room was real! Except the starfish in the corner...the one sitting beside the blue triangle. Yes, those most certainly were _not_ real.

She rubbed at her eyes, massaging her temples as she went on, “I’m going to be in so much trouble.”  
  
“With who?”  
  
“Ikora.”

Was that true? Would Ikora even know?

_Yes! She allllwaaaays knows!_

“Screw Ikora! Screw the Vanguard!” He pumped his fist in the air, then let his arm fall back to the floor with a _Slam!_ “Owwwww!” He wailed.

Yes. True. Screw the Vanguard! But—

“What about the Guardian? They’ll be soooooo disappointed!”  
  
Yes. Truly, they would not find her behavior appropriate for an honorable Guardian.  
  
 _But I’m a Guardian no longer..._

“Naaaahhhh! They cool!” The Drifter assured her, and there was confidence in his statement.

She was inclined to agree with him.  
  
 _Dammit! Why is everything spinning?!_

Enough was enough! This had to end, and it had to end NOW!

“Rat! You...are nothing but a jinx!”  
  
He gasped, “Huuuhhhh?!”  
  
“Every single time I associate with you, I get nothing but trouble! YOU are nothing but trouble!”  
  
He giggled, his feet flat on the floor, knees knocked together, and she watched as he twisted them from side to side in a childish gesture, “I’m fucking adorable!” He proclaimed.

“You are anything but that!” She nodded her own assurance, “I have had enough of your tom-foolery! This evening is concluding as I speak! Now, if you’ll excuse me—”  
  
She pushed herself onto her hands and knees, “I’m going to follow the line now.”  
  
 _What the hell am I talking about?_

“Line?” He asked, “Which one?” Clearly he saw them too.  
  
“The purple one—it knows things...” The last part of her statement was a whisper of great secrecy and promise, and as she began to crawl forward, her hand met air and not wood.  
  
She tumbled to the floor, crashing in a heap upon the rug, and oh!—how that made him howl and shriek with laughter. Uninhibited joy at her clumsy humiliation. But honestly, she really didn’t care in that moment. Taking a moment to compose herself, to feel for anything that may have broken in the fall—Nope! All good!

“Ugh!” She groaned, rolling onto her back to stare up at the ceiling, “Never mind. I live here now—on the floor.”

Catching her breath, listening to his laughter fade into snorts and panting breaths.

She was watching herself again. Watching her eyes move across the steel that kept them safe from the dark and cold that stretched on for eternity outside. And in this moment, she remembered something...something very _very_ important—

“Hey, Rat?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Saint-14 says I should ask you to tell me a story.”  
  
There was a pause. A beat of breath.  
  
“Ya been talkin’ ‘bout me behind my back, Moondust?!”

She ignored him, “He says you tell stories. That they...”

How did he say it? How did it make her feel when he said it?

“...that they will make me have beautiful dreams.”

Lines that chased away that dot that touched everything. High above her.

“Is that true?” She whispered so softly.

Silence answered her, and after a moment, Eris turned her head to face The Drifter, and watched as he thought. Even in her haze, she could see him carefully pondering, his eyes rolling towards the ceiling; searching for something elusive. Something just for her...  
  
And then he began—

“Once there was an apple tree who longed for something more.” He cleared his throat, “Now, what most people don’t know, is that aaaaaallllll apple trees have spirits inside ‘em. They’re alive! Just like you...just like me.”  
  
“Hm.” She nodded, letting him know she was still with him.

“Well, in a valley, by a river bed, this one apple tree would sit and grow, and produce apples, and aaaalllll the animals and aaaaalllll the people would come and gather them up.” He raised his hand in the air to demonstrate how they picked apples from branches.  
  
“And everyone agreed, that this tree had the tastiest goddamn apples in all the world!”

Eris snorted, a little too amused with his habitude.

“But the apple tree was bored,” He sighed, “She was bored with the same damn thing over and over and over again—day after day, season after season. Cause ya see—”  
  
He pointed straight up, “Waaaaaayyyy in the distance, across the river, she could see a mountain covered in snow, and she longed to know what lay on the other side.”

Eris could see it. Clear in her mind’s eye.  
  
“So one day, she asks the river if it knew what was there— _Of course I do!_ The river said, _I flow through it and into an even bigger valley! There are trees, and villages, and so many flowers on rollin’ hills! –_ And sadly, this made the apple tree pine even harder for somethin’ else.”  
  
He paused, his voice falling into a more serious tone, “She wanted to escape. To run away from a life that had been planned for her.”  
  
Eris felt something stirring within.

_Hunters ache for the Wilds...Hunters need to be free..._

“And so,” The Drifter continued, “one mornin’...she twisted and tugged, and pulled herself free of the bark and the leaves. Climbin’ out and into the world on two legs. A creature so beautiful!”  
  
Perhaps it was induced by the rum, but Eris could see so plainly before her a woman with rosewood skin, and long hair made of caterpillar silk. Free and wild!

“She left her valley to go chasin’ another.” The Drifter went on, “She followed the river towards the mountains, but as she journeyed...she realized how much her feet hurt. Cause ya see, she had never walked before.”  
  
Eris’ heart began to beat a little faster.  
  
“Then she realized how hot the sun was without the shade of her own branches.”  
  
 _Long ago, she had left the City...searching for a truth about herself.  
  
_ “But still, she walked and walked, until finally—she stood at the base of the mountain.” A dramatic pause, “And realized just how cold it was.”

_Sitting before a campfire, looking down the mountainside in an early winter._

“But still...she would climb and see that valley, come hell or high water!” He smacked his hand down upon his thigh, nodding his agreement at the apple tree’s conviction, “She climbed, and climbed...her body shakin’ in the cold, pushin’ hard against the wind that was laughin’ at her—until FINALLY!”  
  
Eris waited with bated breath.  
  
“She reached the top and looked down the other side into the valley she had dreamed about!”  
  
He fell silent, and Eris blinked, turning her head to see why he had stopped. She could still feel the effects of the drink, but had enough clarity to recognize how still he had fallen. His eyes on the ceiling locked in an unblinking stare. There was something going on inside him too, and Eris grew worried he would not finish his story.  
  
 _Oh, please...please finish! I want to hear it!_

She nearly spoke her plea out loud, but he obliged her without provocation.

“When she went down into the valley...” He licked his lips, “When she saw the other trees, and the people, and their villages, and the flowers on the rollin’ hills...she felt disappointed. It didn’t look anythin’ like she’d imagined! In fact—she thought her valley was much more beautiful.”

_Traveling to the edge of the world...searching for that something she had longed for. Only to find nothing of consequence, and missing what she had..._

Eris Morn knew all too well.

“But the apple tree tried. She tried so very hard to enjoy it. But it felt wrong. It felt...empty. These weren’t her people, these trees weren’t her brothers and sisters! This weren’t her valley!”  
  
 _The truth about Hunters...the truth about Eris Morn...was that longing..._

“She decided to leave. To go aaaaallllll the way back to her home and the life she had led. Back over the mountain, back along the river, through the cold and the heat—until she found her valley again. BUT—”

Eris jumped.  
  
“It had changed. The sun didn’t shine so bright, the flowers were wilted, and the animals and people were starvin’. _What happened?!—_ The apple tree asked the river— You’ve been gone for so long!—The river explained— _Everyone missed you! Your apples fed everyone! Your branches shaded the flowers and the grass from too much sun! But you left, and everything fell apart!”_

A burning within her eyes, an ache within her chest, and Eris Morn saw the truth in his words.

“And the apple tree was so sad, and felt so awful ‘bout what she had done. She climbed back inside her bark and her branches, and started to cry.”

_A room filled with trivial things._

“But then...somethin’ awesome happened! Her tears watered her own roots! And they grew and they got strong, stronger than they ever were before!”

She looked to The Drifter once more, and saw a smile upon his face. A genuine expression of such joy, that she felt her own beginning to twitch at the corners of her lips.  
  
“Her leaves were fuller! Her apples grew larger! And everyone said they tasted even sweeter than before! And for the very first time, in a very long time...the apple tree was happy.”  
  
And thus he concluded his story.  
  
They both lay in silence. The Drifter staring up at the ceiling, while Eris stared out at him. Her thoughts whirling with the effects of the rum and the beauty of his words, and she felt the need to both laugh and cry. But she wouldn’t. No...she still had enough control. She still did!  
  
“That was a good story,” There was a tremble in her voice, “Thank you.”  
  
“You’re weeeeelllllccooooommmme!” His voice came out high pitched and teasing, and he descended into another fit of giggles.  
  
Eris had to look away before he triggered an attack of her own, and in the fog of her psychosis, she was still able to wonder...  
  
 _How? How can this man speak such marvelous things?_

Saint had been right, and she would be eternally grateful for his suggestion. For as she lay upon the floor, she had heard something so profound and so beautiful that there was nothing in this universe that could possibly transcend a story from The Drifter.

_I could fly away—I could fly away with him into the unknown._

There was a lurch in her stomach, like a feeling of free-fall, and she froze.

“Heeeeeeeyyyyy.” She moaned.  
  
“Whaaaaaaaattttt?”  
  
“Am I lying down or standing up?”  
  
Then everything fell into black.

_Eris is floating._

_On her back, she is in water— it laps at her sides and plugs her ears. It’s warm, not cold— like a soothing bath, and she feels a contentment she hasn’t known in eternity. Her armor is shed, the layers of clothing she hides beneath cast aside and her hair floats around her head, like a crown; face uncovered. Her eyes are closed as she basks in the feeling of the water. Clean. Pure.  
  
There are no whispers. The voices have gone silent, and she is free._

_She opens her eyes, and sees a black sky filled with stars—No...they are not stars...and that is not a sky. It is a rock filled with gems—the ceiling of an underground cave, and she stares in awe at its beauty._

_She is alive in this moment, senses awake with the feeling of the warm water and the cool air colliding upon her skin._

_It’s peaceful here. It’s serene, and her heart beats with such tranquility._

_She doesn’t even startle when two strong arms encircle her from behind, and the serenity turns to rapture. She clutches the arms, encouraging them to hold her tighter as she is pulled gently back against the warm bare chest of a man. She can feel the strength of him._

_This is heaven, she thinks. Just let her stay like this forever._

_Warm lips kiss her throat, trailing along her neck—the softest touch that sends shivers through her as they come to whisper at her ear: “Breathe. Just breathe.”_

_And she does. She breathes him in. The intoxicating scent that is all his own—of the earth after it rains, of campfires...and of magic._

She wakes. Staring up at a high ceiling filled with the crosses of steel beams. She is lying on her back upon a floor. A rug...

Where is she? What happened?

A surging pain in her head caused her to flinch, and she stifled a groan as a terrible headache made itself known. A hangover no doubt, but the worst she had ever felt for sure. The J’alik Rum had run its course, and she realized she was lying on the floor of the Derelict’s living area. She must have passed out at some point. The room was quiet, but her thoughts were loud. Confusion at the dream she had awaken from, and though nothing inappropriate and unseemly had transpired, she still felt ashamed that her mind had wandered to such a place. What was she, some hormonal teenager? No. She had always been a pillar of self-control. A disciplined mind that never went to such places.  
  
 _So why did I dream like that?_  
  
It must have been the effects of the drink...or perhaps...  
  
The Drifter’s story? Saint had said that when Eli told stories, a person would have the most beautiful dreams, and truly, the dream had been beautiful. Hidden away from the universe, in a secret garden of stone and crystal...the water purifying her...but the man—

 _That_ was the source of her discomfort in the waking world. Why was a man there? Who was he?

_What a foolish question._

She felt her stomach drop. There was only one person it could possibly be—and she was more confused and shaken than before. What the hell was wrong with her? She flinched, her toes curling in her boots as she tried to shake the shivers of objection that rushed through her. She didn’t want to think about those things...especially with _him_. It frightened her.

A small sigh from her left, and speak of the devil...

She wasn’t alone in the room, and Eris turned her head to find the man in question lying several feet from her. Curled on his side, fast asleep, he too must have passed out. One arm tucked beneath his head, while the other lay limp across his waist. His lips were parted as he breathed deeply, and in the dim of the room, he looked for all the world a man at peace. Her eyes moving across his face, taking in every detail and realizing that in slumber, The Drifter didn’t look so broken. Features softer, something gentle, and she wondered for a moment what he might be dreaming of.

She released a sigh of her own, turning her head to look at the ceiling once more, but a red glow cut through the dim, and her eyes shifted to see the Ghost perched upon the edge of the table; watching the two of them. She narrowed her eyes, and the little drone flinched in a sheepish manner. There was an air of shame hanging around it—shame for its immature prank earlier, and it looked down at her with what was clearly an apologetic gaze.

Eris sighed, her head aching from the effort it took to tilt her chin to see the Ghost more clearly. She wasn’t angry with it...really she wasn’t. The drink hadn’t been meant for her, and the blame was all her own for being impulsive.  
  
Yet still...she couldn’t resist getting a little vengeance in.  
  
“You really are a little shit, aren’t you?” Her whisper was hoarse, and she realized how parched she was feeling.  
  
The little drone didn’t show any offense at her words. In fact, it seemed to shrug in agreement; a message to her that he agreed he “ _deserved the insult_.”  
  
She sighed, allowing her head to fall back onto the rug. Swallowing down the dryness of her throat, she breathed deeply and closed her eyes—

“Chim-Ung.”  
  
But another hoarse whisper that was not her own cut through the quiet, and Eris opened her eyes, turning her head to find The Drifter awake and watching her. His expression passive, eyes reflecting what little light there was—they looked blue.

“His name is Chim-Ung.” He whispered, “Orin was like you. Thought it was wrong for a Ghost not ta’have a name.”

A small smile curled his lips, a soft memory reflected in his eyes, “So, she named him Chim-Ung.”

_A little bird of prey._

A pause, as Eris processed what he had just told her. Another secret. Another truth, and Eris felt it was a perfectly good name. She said nothing, just watched The Drifter who returned her stare with an expression still laced in sleep.

Thoughts filling Eris, new ones that made her feel...that perhaps there wasn’t such ugliness between the man and his Ghost after all. And so, Eris turned away and looked back to the little light; speaking something long overdue—

“It’s nice to meet you, Chim-Ung.” She whispered with all the sincerity she possessed, and for a moment, there was a shiver of joy that passed through the little Ghost.

How long had it been since it had heard that name spoken? Such a simple thing to create such happiness. What a pleasant thought.  
  
Then Eris Morn allowed herself to slip away. Her head lay back upon the floor, and she closed her eyes; breathing deeply.

She would sleep here tonight. A place where there was no threat, no judgement, and no concerns to dwell on. Just the contentment of companionship, good humor and dreams—this time, about apple trees, snowcapped mountains, and rivers that could talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In lore, The Drifter did indeed kit-bash his Ghost with the parts of Five dead Ghosts taken from his crew. Because of this, his Ghost can no longer speak, and has a red eye. However, his Ghost is the one who told him to do it, and even walked him through the surgery. 
> 
> If you want to read my retelling of the incident, you can find a companion piece to "In Turn" here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28659978
> 
> If you hang around Saint-14 long enough in the Hangar, he will tell you that he knows The Drifter is a good man and that he has a good heart; that his soul is not yet lost. He will tell you that he visits him. Honestly, if it weren't for The Drifter, Saint would not be with us. He "fixed Osiris' math" to get the Sundial operating. Thank you Drifter.
> 
> In regards to Eris' Ghost, there is something of a continuity error. Before Shadowkeep, there were insinuations that her Ghost was male. However, in Shadowkeep, there is a Ghost Fragment you can collect of a female Ghost, and it is insinuated that it was Eris Morn's. Bungie has a rather large narrative team, and new writers are brought in all the time, so it's understandable if a continuity error occurs. I simply went with the original impression I had in-game that Eris' Ghost was male.  
> \----------------------------------------------  
> 


	8. Author's Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A real quick question.

Hey Y'all,  
  
Wanted to touch base and get a little input from you. This story has been extremely fun to write and I'm enjoying the journey. In my opinion, Eris Morn and The Drifter are the two strongest written characters in Destiny based on the three dimensional elements of character, and it was a very wise move for Bungie to bring the two of them together as a team within the game's storyline.   
  
I have "In Turn" mapped out entirely, and know exactly how it will conclude. However, I know that my writing style is a bit _different_. It's not everyone's cup-of-tea, and at this point, I'm curious to know where your expectations lie. Are you craving more character growth, more action, more exploration of the psyche, etc? I have multiple concepts that I want to play with, but I don't want to bore you with the level of pacing in which I compose.   
  
If you couldn't tell, I embrace the lore quite heavily and am very dedicated to the characters developing within the confines of their story-bible.

How far would you like me to take this story? Would you prefer a definitive conclusion, or that it be allowed to develop along with the lore as Destiny continues? There have been new revelations given within Beyond Light that I will definitely be exploring; some of which are quite heartbreakingly tragic.

I suppose at this point, I'm curious to know if anyone is truly invested enough for me to continue onwards with a longer tale. ALSO, the real Chapter 8 will be coming soon. Stay tuned.

Thanks! Y'all rock.


	9. Tien Len

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a longer one for y'all. This is an extremely lore heavy chapter.

Her ship’s navigation began to _Chirp!_ alerting Eris to her destination’s approach. The bank of a river in South East Asia.

That morning, when she had awoken from another frightful dream—of soot and ash and crumbling towers—she had discovered a message upon her data pad; sent from The Drifter. Confused and somewhat concerned, she had scanned over it quickly—discovering coordinates on Earth, and a scheduled time:

**1500 Hours ICT.**

She didn’t know what to think.

Today was to be their weekly meeting, and the usual arrangement, was for Eris to arrive at the Derelict in whatever orbit The Drifter had settled upon—always running that rat-race of his; that illegal fight club he wasted so much time on— But their usual rendezvous was well into the evening, not early in the day.

 _What is he up to?_  
  
She messaged him back, asking for an explanation, but a minute passed, then two, then three, then several more— and still nothing. She wasn’t going to waste her time with his obscure conspiracies, his antics were far too distracting from the greater purpose at hand, and so she dropped the data pad onto her nightstand and went about her normal routine.

Dressing and garbing herself in armor, she was meticulous with how every article of clothing was placed and wrapped; a way of ensuring that she remained hidden at all times. It had been a long time since anyone had seen her...even herself. Mirrors had become her tormentors. It hadn’t always been this way.

In her youth, she had given much more care to her appearance. She had even trifled with makeup, thanks in part to Ikora’s encouragement. The Warlock had always been far more feminine than her, but Eris had enjoyed futzing around with her soul sister, who had a weakness for shopping in those days. Evenings spent seated upon the floor of Ikora’s apartment, experimenting with different looks to the point of sheer eccentricity. They would develop characters to match the style of their clothing and cosmetics, concocting the most outrageous backstories for them; screeching with laughter as they did so. In those days, Eris had enjoyed the rare moments when she and Ikora could simply be _girls_. Not warriors, not a Hunter nor a Warlock—just two women embracing their feminine nature. Being proud.

Once during one of their louder and more beer-fueled make-overs, Osiris had strolled down the hallway, only to backtrack and fix the two women with the most perturbed expression at the sight of their blue lipstick and overly contoured cheeks. Honestly, his bewilderment simply made them laugh harder, and eventually Osiris shook his head and walked off; leaving Sagira behind to join in their shrieks of good humor.

Those were happier times. Before Ikora found new purpose...before Osiris was cast-out...before the pit...

She didn’t want to think about them. It would merely bring pain.

Distraction came, when she caught sight of a blue glow from her nightstand. A tell-tale sign that a new message had been received, and with two quick strolls, she took it in hand once more. Her heart fluttered just the slightest when she confirmed it was indeed from The Drifter, and in the fraction of a second it took to process what she had felt, she was irked over being _excited_ at his moniker appearing.

What was wrong with her? Self-discipline was becoming harder to maintain, and there seemed to be a common denominator for every single slip, no matter how brief—The Drifter.

That man was a blight.

She swallowed down the displeasure rising in her throat as she swiped the screen, finding his message brief and somewhat...disappointing:

**Just be there. Trust!**

_Figures._

She sighed. Honestly, what had she been expecting? The man was never straightforward about anything. His machinations were always cloak and dagger, and with this silent acknowledgement mulling around in her mind, Eris remembered what had happened the last time he had a “surprise” in store. Ceres. Lord help her...she was _not_ going through that again, but the coordinates he had sent were on Earth. Still, that didn’t refute the possibility he was going to place her in a precarious situation, so she searched the coordinates:  
  
Vietnam. He was telling her to go to his homeland. _Now_ , her curiosity was truly roused, and as she stood in the confinement of the sanctum she had created, Eris realized just how long it had been since she had neglected her home world. The glowing orb that hung in the blackness of space. From Luna, she could see it so clearly. It was beautiful from afar, but she knew the truth.

_Why am I so unfair?_

Truly, it wasn’t the world itself that had embittered her, it had been the people. And yet—

_I’m still trying to save them._

The ironic truth. She didn’t dwell too long upon that thought, and without providing him with further reply, she had made her decision.

Now, here she was, descending towards a flat land in a tropical region. A massive river flowing into the horizon, hills of dense trees in the distance, and below, under the shade of a Devil Tree, stood The Drifter. Leaning back against a sparrow in a posture so nonchalant, Eris wondered if he had worried at all that she wouldn’t show.

Chim-Ung hovered beside him, and was the first to look up and acknowledge her arrival. The man followed suit, turning his gaze towards her approaching ship, and even from a distance, she could see that cock-sure grin upon his face. Correction—she couldn’t _see_ it so much as she could sense it.

Cheeky. Always cheeky.

She allowed the ship to land itself, before powering down. The hiss of the airlock springing free, and she hopped to the ground, standing to face her ever aberrant companion. He remained leaning against his vehicle, hands in his pockets, and sure enough—that grin she had predicted was there in all its glory.  
  
“Ya came!” He announced.  
  
“Did you assume I wouldn’t?”

“Nah, never doubted, ya!” The Drifter called back, coming to stand straight and removing his hands from his pockets.  
  
She cocked a brow, not entirely certain he was speaking the truth, “Indeed...”

As she moved towards him, she was met half-way by the little Ghost, who came to hover before her in clear greeting.  
  
Eris nodded, “Good afternoon, Chim-Ung.”

A _Trill!_ and a small shake of its shell, and Eris thought how bittersweet it was for the Ghost to feel such elation at addressing it by name. It confirmed what she had suspected. It must have been centuries since he heard it.

She came to stand a few feet from the one who had summoned her, a breeze passing through that rustled the trees and brought leaves to tumble down upon them both. It was autumn for this region, and thankfully so. For the layers of clothing she and The Drifter chose to garb themselves in would have been miserable in the humidity. This time of year was pleasant enough.

“Why have you called me here?” She cut right to the chase, and nearly added her usual moniker for him of _Rat_ as a footnote. She caught herself, there was no need to be insulting; he’d done nothing to warrant it— yet.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he began to saunter towards her, slowly...a smirk on his face, but not one of mockery. No...there was a gaiety in his eyes. The gleam of something, and Eris worried for a moment that once again, she was being led into catastrophe. He drew ever closer, and she startled for the briefest of seconds as he crossed over that proverbial line that brought him into her personal space. And yet...yet...

She did not feel that rush of anxiety she had lived with for so long. No...instead, her heart fluttered and something inexplicable was building inside her—something warm and pleasant. But for all the personal growth she had procured over the past two years, she still worried at the conflict bubbling deep within. Especially when he was as close as he was now—

_Too close. He’s too close again._

But still, she stood and waited, taken aback as he raised his hand to reach for her. Breath catching in her throat as his fingers plucked free the leaves that had come to lay upon her. One from her head, another from her shoulder—she could feel the fire radiating from him, and smell the gunpowder and red rubber grease he must have been tampering with earlier. Another of his secretive projects.

His eyes never broke contact with her own, and it took all her willpower not to step back from him. There was something in his stare that made her writhe inside, and she was discontented with herself over it.  
  
_What is wrong with me?_

“Cause,” He finally spoke, “I wanna show ya somethin’.”

He winked, quickly turning away, and Eris was left to blink some clarity into herself. The spell now broken. He strode back towards his sparrow, Chim-Ung following behind, and she watched the Ghost dissipate as The Drifter nimbly slid onto the seat of his ride. _  
  
_“Well, get on, Loser!” The Drifter’s smile was all teeth, and Eris was left dumbfounded when reality struck her—

_Wait...we’re going somewhere else?_

“Hold on,” She stood her ground, “Why give me these coordinates if your plan is to go elsewhere?”  
  
“Cause where we’re goin’ ain’t a good place for ships, darlin!”  
  
She narrowed her eyes, uncomfortable with the thought of leaving her ship unattended in an unfamiliar place, and frankly, annoyed with his lack of common sense.  
  
“I could have left my ship in orbit,” she pointed out, “Just leaving it like this—”

“Nah! It’ll be fine!” He cut her off, his sparrow roaring to life, “Hop on!”

 _Now_ the anxiety was returning. He was leading her into the unknown once more, while also placing her in a situation of sheer carelessness regarding the safety of her ship. What about scavengers? Raiders? Any of the enemies of humanity? She had lost one ship before, she couldn’t afford to lose another.  
  
Quite literally—she couldn’t afford it.

Eris didn’t move. She was being placed into another situation where she was ill-prepared and at the mercy of his scheming. She didn’t like it. Not one bit, and she felt anger flickering inside her at the thought that the man found humor in it all.

She was not a toy to be played with.

“Where are you taking me, Rat?” _Now_ using that title felt warranted.

She didn’t think it were possible, but his smile grew, “It’s a surprise!” He shouted over the engine, and OH!— was that the wrong thing to say to her.

“No! No more surprises!” She folded her arms, and instantly regretted the gesture. It was juvenile, but if she were to uncross them now, it would merely make the situation awkward for herself.

She watched as he tilted his head back, growling, “Come on, Three-Eyes! Ya can’t still be mad over that little Ceres thing!”  
  
_Little?!_ _Is he kidding?!_

Honestly, she wasn’t mad about it. Annoyed yes, but not mad. But The Drifter didn’t need to know that.

“You placed me in a humiliating situation,” She put all the authority she had into her voice, “Never again will I acquiesce to any of your surprises.”

Even from where she stood, she caught the most minute eye-roll from him, and the urge to provide him with a nose job free of charge was rising.

“This is different!” He began to explain, “There won’t be other people! Just you and me— and the Dumbass!” Remembering his Ghost as an afterthought, he scoffed.

She didn’t answer, didn’t budge, and as per usual, they had locked each other in a stalemate.

_We’re both so stubborn. How have we made it this far?_

She ceased that thought immediately. Worried at what exactly they had forged through reluctant cooperation, boredom and sheer...loneliness.

“Come on, Moondust...” She startled at his change in tone, catching the sound of something more endearing, “You and me... _us_...the outdoors on a brisk day in fall...under a blue sky... strollin’ together...all alone—so romantic.”

Eris nearly choked on her own air.

“You are not winning your case with comments like that, Rat!” She sneered, but he laughed at her.

“Oh, lighten up, darlin’!”

No. Absolutely not. She would not react.

And yet—there was something that had stirred within her. It was a flash, so fleeting she wasn’t certain it had even occurred. But still—none of this should be of any consequence. The world was about to end.  
  
_Have we lost sight? We’ve strayed so far off the path._

“There are pressing matters at hand,” She reminded him, “We have work to do, or have you forgotten?”

He fixed her with a look she couldn’t quite decipher. There was a scrutiny in his gaze, but soft humor played at his expression.

_Why is he looking at me that way?_

“Just spend the day with me, Moondust,” He paused, “Please?”

And there was something about his words and the tone of his voice that caused her heart to soften and leap into her throat. That wall she had put up so long ago forming a microscopic crack. What should she say?

_He said please..._

He stopped her before she could find the words, “It’s a special day today...”  
  
“It is?” She blinked.  
  
“It’s my birthday!” His smile was so big and so audacious.

Lord, he was relentless. He was a well of sarcasm and manipulative stratagem, and despite how intelligent and clever Eris herself was, there was something of naivety about her when it came to emotional administration. Much to her embarrassment. The Drifter on the other hand, clearly had a strong grasp of psychology. Still, Eris greatly disliked when he tried to emotionally extort her like this.

She sighed, “Just so you know, I do not entertain any of your claims for one second. But—since I came all this way, to turn around and be done with it all without seeing productivity for my efforts, would simply be...a waste. And I will not allow my time to be wasted.”  
  
With that said, she closed the gap between them.  
  
“Atta girl!” He shouted, and inched forward to give her more room upon the seat.  
  
His sparrow was unique. She had no doubt he had built it himself, and after giving it a quick glance over, she silently admired his handy work. Just one more praise she had to be certain he never heard. But a problem was arising—

Climbing on without having to hold him for support.

Eris feared physical contact with anyone, and was loathe to admit that secretly she craved it. She was ashamed for snapping at other Guardians when they had come to stand too close to her, but there was so much bottled up inside—so much. True, The Drifter was constantly invading her personal space...but...but the truth was...

_What is the truth?_

A nagging in the back of her mind—a contradiction of longing for something, while also dreading when it was before her.

No. She was on edge from several nights of tormented nightmares, restless sleep, and lack of food. She hadn’t properly eaten in four days, resorting to picking away at dried fruit and seeds to make it through her days. If Ikora knew...Eris would never hear the end of it. That was the reason. That was the excuse. She was just being skittish, it had nothing to do with the man before her.

She placed her hands upon the leather of the seat instead of his shoulders for balance. The pulse rifle she had witnessed him carry upon his back, was holstered upon a racking over the airbox, and as she brought her leg up and over, she had to tuck it behind the stock. The motion causing her to falter for just a second, and yet, she refrained from grabbing onto him to steady herself. She didn’t want that contact. It would be...it would just be...

“How far are we going?” Paranoia about her ship ended her thoughts on physical proximity.  
  
“Ummm...” He thought a moment, “On this thing—''bout, thirty minutes east.”  
  
“Thirty minutes?!” She blurted, “Why so far? I’m not comfortable with this, Rat—”

He glanced over his shoulder at her, that smirk still there. Always there. A knowing look in his eye to put her at ease—

“Trust!”

And with that, they shot forward. Eris’ stomach lurching at the sudden sensation of speed, and she could hear The Drifter chuckle, as she used her core and locked her legs upon the chassis to keep from falling back.

_Ass!_

She still wouldn’t hold onto him. The centripetal force would keep her upright, so she kept her hands on her knees as he navigated along the river, banking to the right and into a field of tall grass. The wind howled in her ears as the world passed by, and chilled the portion of her face she left exposed. She could smell the jet fuel of the sparrow, and the petrichor of the wet earth beneath them. The air was thick with humidity, and yet still seasonally brisk. It was pleasant, and she took a second to breathe it in deeply.  
  
_How good it feels._

The force of the air blew her cloak behind her, and likewise, the tails of The Drifter’s coat lifted back onto her knees; covering her lap like a blanket. In the coolness of the air, it was a pleasant relief, creating something warm and soothing, and Eris worried at it for a moment.

 _It’s just his coat. Not him.  
  
_It would not count as physical contact, and with that, Eris allowed herself to relax and enjoy the ride. Her fidgetiness was becoming a thorn in her side, trying so very hard to dominate over her this day.

_I will not submit. I won’t!_

She needed to focus on something else, find a distraction. She turned her attention to the trees lightly bowing their limbs in the breeze as they passed, and the distant hills that loomed ever closer. He was taking them far into the wilderness, and she contemplated the design of the terrain. She had never been to what was once the land of Vietnam. In all her years of travel, she had never strayed so far south. No, as a Hunter, she tended to keep to the north and the west. Exploring the mountain passes and the deepest forests, following rivers that emptied into hidden lakes. That was part of what it meant to be a Hunter, there was a bond with nature that was strong.

_To stand on cliffs and look down at a world that whispered secrets. Every tree, every rock...they could speak of ancient mysteries, they told stories of a world long since passed._

She had craved higher venues. Places that reached into the sky at the top of the world, and so, she had never traveled to this region. She had planned to...she had wanted to. She had wanted to see every corner of the world, but...but then...  
  
_I lived so long among the Hive. Longer than I had among my own kind.  
  
_Her fingers gripped the fabric upon her knees, stifling the rising tremble at a thought that haunted her always—

_Does that mean...I am not truly a human?_

_No! Stop!_

She refocused on the region, noticing that The Drifter had taken them back along a trail that was leading into a canyon, and she was awe struck by the looming formations of rock draped in vegetation. The emerald green so rich and vibrant! A stark contrast to the monochromatic dreariness of her home upon the moon. Drained of all color and life. She could feel the temperature drop somewhat as they entered the ravine, The Drifter steering their ride over and around the fallen trees and boulders that hindered their path. Their speed never faltering, and his reflexes allowed for their journey to remain smooth—almost effortless.

It was clear, he knew every inch of this terrain. This was his land.

_What a beautiful country he comes from..._

Several minutes more, and she could see the exit before them; like a part in a set of curtains.They shot out of the shadowed gulch and Eris flinched as the bright sun struck her sensitive eyes. Blinking away the discomfort and the blur until she could clearly see a massive valley below. They rode along a neglected dirt trail and towards a plateau littered with fallen trees that had become, in a sense, lumber, and The Drifter steered them right into the heart of it; tapping the break to slow them into a smooth stop.  
  
“Well,” He shouted, “We’re here! Hop off, hun!” He cut the engine, and Eris hesitated for just a moment; eyeing the area.  
  
She was, frankly...confused. They had transitioned from a beautiful land of green and prosperous nature into a place of rotting vegetation and scrap metal. She could see the remains of rusted steel and iron, both piled and scattered about, as though dumped in a spontaneous junk yard by inconsiderate persons.

Turning her gaze east, she spied fields that were clearly once rice paddies, but had turned to muddy bogs. The whole area just...stank of decay. Hidden away and forgotten.  
  
_Why bring me here?_

The place was most unseemly, and she wracked her brain for some sort of reasoning. Trying to find a conclusion before he could thrust any _surprises_ upon her.

“Hey, darlin’?” The Drifter’s voice cut through her observational thoughts, “Ya gonna sit there and gawk all day? Get-on down now so we can get this show on the road!”  
  
Her eyes flicked to him, finding him grinning over his shoulder as he watched her with amusement; clearly seeing how confused she was. Once more, she had the distinct impression he was up to something—mischief brewing within his eyes—

An internal sigh, and she resigned herself. Too late to turn back now. Besides, he was her ride, and so, pushing the bottom of his coat aside, she slid her leg carefully back from the stock of his rifle. Allowing her legs to adjust to a standing position, she stepped to the side as he came to join her, adjusting his coat before summoning Chim-Ung who popped into existence beside him.

“Where are we?” The remains of burnt out electrical conduits caught her eye, coiled around shards of petrified wood.

He chuckled, “Just a little place in the middle of nowhere.”  
  
That response caused her eyes to narrow his way, “Your vague answers are always the highlight of my week.”

Throwing a little sarcasm his way, she watched as his smile grew, and he bounced slightly on his toes; not insulted in the least.  
  
“Come on now, darlin!” He sauntered backwards, throwing his arms open in a grand presentation of their surroundings, “It’s a great big world! Why not get lost every now and then?!”

 _Lost?_  
  
“What do you mean? Do you even know where we are?” She couldn’t be certain if he was being serious or simply trifling with her. The bastard had a talent for it.

That teasing expression he wore...shoving his hands into his pockets as he rocked back and forth upon his heels, chewing his lip. He said nothing.

“Rat...” There was a warning in her tone, “Why did you drag me out here—in the middle of nowhere as you’ve said?”

His trademark smile was in place, “For our weekly game of course!”

It was nonsense, plain and simple, and apparently, even Chim-Ung had grown weary of his riddles, for the Ghost looked her way and shook its shell; a gesture that made her think the little light was saying: _“Don’t listen to him—he’s a moron.”_

She raised a brow, her chin slightly dipping in subtle acknowledgement of the Ghost; letting him know that she understood.

“And what is so wrong about having it onboard your junk heap as per usual?” A smirk of her own creeped upon her lips, “You having it fumigated?”  
  
That earned her a pout.

“Even I get sick’a bein’ cooped up, Three-Eyes.” There was a hint of seriousness in his words, and he spun on his heel; turning his back to her.  
  
“This-a way!” He declared, raising his arm to point further into the circle of rubbish, “Vamonos!”

And with that, he began to march away from her.  
  
“Hold on, Rat!” She called out, “Are you serious? We’re playing a card game here?”  
  
But he didn’t stop, nor did he look back, “Si, Senorita!”

Flabbergasted, she watched as Chim-Ung made his own departure, floating behind his Chosen who neatly hopped over a pile of logs. They were getting further away, and Eris took a second to compose herself. She was tired, her mind a whirlwind of so many things, and confused at the sheer lack of logic the man seemed to be exercising today. Why give her useless coordinates? Why make her land her ship when she could have just transmatted? In fact...why did they take a sparrow when they could have just transmatted from the Derelict directly to this spot? It was all so confusing.

The Drifter didn’t give headaches—he _was_ one.

A _Chirp!,_ and she watched Chim-Ung turn to call back to her, encouraging her to follow, and with a silent sigh of resolution, Eris trailed after the man and his Ghost. She caught up quickly, and fell in stride beside The Drifter; Chim-Ung floating in between them.

“May I inquire as to why you would choose this place for our weekly engagement?”

They stepped over more debris and bald patches of earth, and Eris watched The Drifter’s attitude remain nonchalant as he pondered her question and shrugged,

“Meh, like I said, it’s in the middle o’nowhere. Seemed good enough.”  
  
_Wonderful._

Another answer that wasn’t truly an answer at all. Why did she even bother anymore?

“Over here—”

She startled when he brought his arm up, nearly clothes-lining her as he pointed across her line of vision to the right.  
  
“Watch it, Rat.” She glared, but that merely garnered a chuckle from him, as he cut in front of her; making his way to the area he had indicated. A small slab of cracked concrete; nearly reclaimed entirely by mother Earth.

 _Strange...had a building once stood?_  
  
Maybe this had been an outpost.

Chim-Ung fluttered past them both, a beam of light from his lone eye scanning the ground before producing a pixelated glow, and Eris watched as the little drone summoned a small foldable table with matching stools into the middle of the cemented area. A makeshift set-up for them. A way to indulge their customary ritual in the outdoors; the ground was level enough for it.

“Did ya forget the beer?!” The Drifter eyed Chim-Ung, who returned his gaze with a narrowed shutter upon his shell. Silent communication passing between them, as the Ghost clearly expressed its opinion, that despite what the man thought about him, he was _“Not an idiot!”_

Another flash of light produced two bottles of beer upon the table, and even from where she stood, Eris could recognize the label. Not a cheap brand at all, and she was reminded of how strangely The Drifter had more sophisticated tastes than his appearance suggested. The contradictions continued to flow with no end in sight.

“Hey, Moondust!” He beckoned for her to come closer, “Ya waitin’ for a stamped invitation, or did someone forget to turn the dog fence off?”

 _Oh, that cretin!  
  
_She glared, but approached nonetheless.

“Keep speaking to me in such a manner and see what happens, you cockroach.”

His eyes widened, and a bark of laughter escaped him, “Damn, woman! You is vicious!”

“Hmph.” She stood before the table now, and faced him, watching as he gazed back at her with glittering eyes and a grin that wouldn’t quit.

She said nothing more, but neither did he, and in an instant—an awkward silence fell. Eris was unsure what to say or do to alleviate it. The Drifter staring with anticipation, but for what, she hadn’t a clue.  
  
“Um,” She cleared her throat, “Are we playing cards or having a staring contest, Rat?”  
  
He chuckled, “I’m waitin’ for ya to take a seat, darlin’” He brought his hand to his heart and sighed dramatically, “What kinda man would I be if I sat before a lady?”

She was taken aback. Shocked that he would know such etiquette. Old fashioned, yes. A classic practice of chivalry from a bygone age, and Eris felt strange about adhering to it. She had never been seen as a _Lady_ before...she had never even referred to herself as such, and in all honesty, she was hesitant to sit first. It would feel....strange. However, when a _Trill!_ from Chim-Ung disrupted the quiet, she glanced his way to see the little Ghost gesturing for her to be seated first. A kind gesture, and she realized that both the man and the Ghost were trying to be gentlemen.

It was...touching. She was flattered, and felt a tinge of guilt.

_I’m always so quick to acrimony._

She took her seat, The Drifter following likewise, reaching into his pocket as he did. She watched him remove a deck of cards, popping the top of the pack open to slide them out in one fluid motion.

“Ya ever play Tien Len?” He began shuffling the cards with an unnatural speed, and once again, Eris was nearly mesmerized by the sight.

_Tien Len? Why does that sound familiar?_

She knew many card games. She had played constantly with her fireteams—both of them. It was one of the few things she had excelled at more than any of her friends. Even the Vanguard. She’d beat Ikora every time. Zavala hadn’t been too good a player either, and he’d usually fold to her. Cayde was the only one who ever gave her a challenge, but still, she’d humiliate him in every game.

“Perhaps,” She thought a little harder, “I think I do...”

He smirked, “Maybe ya know it as Thirteen?”

_Ah!_

“Yes. I do know that one.” She nodded.  
  
“Alright, alright, alright! Same game, same rules!” He announced, as he slid the top card off the deck, holding it up for her to see: FOUR OF DIAMONDS. Then, before her eyes, he flipped the card through each of his fingers; the suit and number shifting with each pass:

FIVE OF CLUBS — JACK OF HEARTS — THREE OF SPADES.

A cheap little parlor trick, but wondrous to watch nonetheless. His hands continued to amaze her...but she’d never let him know that.

“Ya get the honor of startin’ us off, darlin’.”

He slid the card across the table to her, and Eris realized something:  
  
“Aren’t we short players? It’s customary for four in a single game.”

He shrugged, “Yeah, but we ain’t got many friends now, do we?”

She pressed her lips together at his response. Leave it to him to insult himself just to get a blow in on someone. He was the sort of man who would enact the proverbial— _"cutting his nose of for spite”_ deal without hesitation. Of that she was certain.

“The game doesn’t quite work for two people.” She was always the sensible one it seemed.  
  
“Ah,” He held up a hand, “But we can play with three and still get a good game outta it.”  
  
She cocked a brow, but with how quickly the confusion came, realization came with equal speed. Chim-Ung came to hover at the side of the table, indicating that he too would be playing with them. Eris hadn’t expected that, but was charmed nonetheless at the idea the Ghost would finally be interacting more fully with them that evening.  
  
“Hey!” The Drifter pointed sternly at Chim-Ung, “I wanna nice clean game, got it?!”  
  
The Ghost clearly wasn’t amused, and turned slightly upon the man with a visage that clearly read "The Drifter could take those cards and shove them—"

“Ah!” The Drifter barked back, quickly dealing the allotted cards between them, “Don’t gimme that! Playin’ all innocent in front-a Moondust! You and your creepy lil’ crush on her!”

Eris blanched. She knew The Drifter wasn’t serious, but he was insulting the little light while also putting her on the spot. She did not appreciate that one bit!  
  
“Please tell me you will be ceasing your juvenile degrading of us as we proceed with our game? I am in no mood for your immaturity, especially at his expense.”  
  
She gestured towards Chim-Ung, who seemed to hold his shell a little higher. The two of them the adults in this situation.

The Drifter stared at her, as he sat aside the remainder of the unused deck, “This is a small word zone, got it?”  
  
Ah, so he hadn’t understood her. She fought down the grin, “You wish me to dumb down my vocabulary for your sake?”  
  
There it was—his bratty pout.

“Do I make you feel guilty, Three-Eyes?” He scooped his cards up, fanning them out, “Do you feel the need to lower your standards when I’m around?”

 _Woah..hold on a second..._  
  
She didn’t know how he did it, but he had flipped the insult in a whole new direction. Painting her as the villain once more and himself as the victim of her _despotic nature_. Eris paused, watching a smirk slowly grew upon his face; eyes glimmering with such mischief. He knew he had her, and was waiting for her counter-attack. But no—she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction!

She scooped up her own cards, and turned her attention to them instead. A silent indication that she would not be goaded into a fight. She fidgeted with her hand, rearranging it in a compulsive manner; causing the suits to stand in their proper order. She could feel his eyes still upon her, and she chanced a glance up to quickly observe that he was watching her with a most irritating expression. He was _not_ going to win! But hell...he was doing a damn good job of pushing her buttons without having to say a word!  
  
_How?!_

As she figured, it was merely an additional agitation feeding her pre-existing anxiety. The past several days had been highly stressful, and her emotional and mental health was not stable to begin with. He was like a fly that kept buzzing around her food. Just one more irritation. Still, the best tactic was to ignore it all.

So, she placed the THREE OF SPADES in the center of the table, officially starting their game.

Chim-Ung was next in the proper rotation, and the little Ghost used his beam of light to quickly scan his cards that remained face down for fairness sake. Having made a choice, he flipped one onto Eris’ play. A SIX OF SPADES.  
  
The Drifter quickly added a SIX OF DIAMONDS, the suit playing higher to Chim-Ung’s Spade, but Eris could beat the number:

EIGHT OF HEARTS.

Chim-Ung paused a moment, then flipped a QUEEN OF DIAMONDS onto the pile.  
  
“Ha!” The Drifter scoffed, and with a flick of his wrist, sent the TWO OF DIAMONDS onto the pile.  
  
Eris glanced to her own cards. There were options, but his card was a rather high play...  
  
“Pass.” She murmured.  
  
Chim-Ung shook his shell, choosing to pass as well, and so, The Drifter cleared the table.

“Aw, poor baby!” The Drifter stuck out his lip, directing his mockery at Chim-Ung, and the Ghost glared back, letting out a short _Squawk!_ in rebuttal.

Though it was harmless heckling, Eris hoped The Drifter would keep his attitude in check. He knew she greatly disliked when he verbally bashed his Ghost in front of her, and after the last incident—well, she expected more considerate behavior. But, alas—

“I know your sorry ass is prone to cheatin’, but ya gonna play fair today!” The Drifter went on, “O’else I’m gonna crack that shell open and make a bisque outta ya!”

_Ugh!_

She could use that beer right about now.  
  
Placing her cards down, Eris grabbed the waiting bottle as her other hand drew the blade from the holster beneath her cloak. A swift flip, and she popped the cap off the bottle, the _clank!_ of the metal striking the ground as it bounced away; drawing the attention of both the man and his Ghost. She took a swig, glaring as she did. A silent message that she was waiting for him to shut his mouth and resume the game. She did not come to watch them bicker.

He eyed her, a spark of amusement upon his face, as he grabbed his own bottle; raising it to his lips. She stared in shock as he popped the cap off with his teeth, spitting the stopper to the side to join her own upon the concrete. He smirked as he took a long swig; sighing and licking his lips when he finished.  
  
Eris sneered, “How barbaric.”  
  
That earned her a laugh, “Ya think that was barbaric?! I once knew a gal on Pallas who had a very—interestin’ way of openin’ a beer bottle...”  
  
He wagged his eyebrows as he took another swig. A _Squawk!_ from Chim-Ung, and the shaking of his shell delivered a gesture of disgust, telling Eris all she needed to know. There was a foul taste in her mouth now.  
  
“Ugh, Rat! What company you keep— what is wrong with you?”  
  
“Hey!” He pointed at her, “Don’t be castin’ stones, Moondust! You is part of that company now.”  
  
He had a point, but she most certainly was not categorically in the same league as these...pirates, mercenaries...criminals...whatever he wanted to refer to them as.

“I most certainly am _not_ a part of your...crew.” She spat out the last word, as though it were bitter to the taste.  
  
He cocked a brow, “Are you degrading my friends, Three-Eyes.”  
  
Oh, she had him!  
  
“You just said earlier that you do not have any friends, Rat.” She couldn’t help the small smirk that curled upon her.

She had called out his own contradiction, but her good humor faltered when she saw a smirk of his own.  
  
“Nu-uh, Moondust...I said I didn’t have _many_ friends, not that I didn’t have _any_ friends.”  
  
_Goddammit._  
  
She had walked right into that. But she could still win this—

“Oh, silly me,” She mocked, bringing a hand to her heart, “And here I thought you were the most hated man in the known universe. My mistake.”

Her sarcasm simply fueled his own entertainment.

“There ya go again, Three-Eyes.” He added a dramatic gasp at the end, “Comin’ into someone else’s house as a guest and insultin’ them. Such a lack of manners!”  
  
If that was meant to be an insult, it was a weak one.  
  
“I don’t know what you mean, Rat. As you can see,” She waved her hand to emphasize their environment, “We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

And at her words, his smirk grew substantially. Eyes unblinking as they bore into her, and Eris felt the chill of something run through her. This hadn’t been the reaction she anticipated.

_What is he—_

Her thoughts were cut off as he spoke:

“No we ain’t. You’re sittin’ in my livin’ room, darlin’.”

Silence. Dead silence. She blinked, trying to process what he was saying.

“What?” A croak had formed in her throat, her voice a rasp.  
  
His smirk was still there, but the strength of it wavered. He still watched her, but it wasn’t with scrutiny. No...no...there was a plea in his eyes. Something he was trying to convey to her.  
  
_What does he want? What is—_

She froze. One heartbeat, then two, then she turned in her seat and looked—truly seeing for the first time. The remains of a house. A small one, more like a hut, but a home nonetheless. She could see where the walls once stood, and the rusted sheet metal that had been the roof. Collapsed, scattered about...

_His home...this is all that remains of his home. Which means—_

As though reading her thoughts, The Drifter provided confirmation.  
  
“Welcome to Eaton.”

It was like being caught up in a trance. Eris was watching herself from the outside, being pulled on a string as she rose to stand; taking in the area. How had she not noticed? The remains of a village! A farming community built on the edge of a field of rice. The petrified wood, the rusted metals, the remains of electrical cables and mechanical gear. This was the village he had spoken of. Where he had been a man named Germaine.  
  
It was gone...all gone.

“What happened here?” Her voice was light, but filled with bewilderment, and she turned to regard The Drifter.

However, his face that had once held amusement was now livid, and Eris startled as she watched his eyes shift in Chim-Ung’s direction. He glared with a fury unbridled, and she watched in shock as the Ghost shuddered, lowering its eye and cringing away from the table. Pure distress— absolute despair coated the little light’s entire form, and the tension was so high, so thick, that Eris felt no knife could cut through it.  
  
_What is going on?_

Her own disquiet rising, as she further observed The Drifter. His jaw tightly clenched, she could see the muscles spasming beneath his beard, while his nostrils flared as his breath became heavy. This was rage, this was murderous frenzy trying to break out—and it was all directed at little Chim-Ung. Eris' heart began to race, confused and worried. For if The Drifter could look at his Ghost in such a way...if Chim-Ung could cringe like a beaten animal before their eyes...what had the Ghost done?  
  
The sound of glass exploding, and Eris jumped as she watched the beer bottle in The Drifter’s hand shattered under the pressure of his grip. He had squeezed so tightly the glass caved; shards and beer now covering the table. She froze. Unsure what to say or do, as The Drifter broke free from his anger, looking down at his hand and the remains of his drink. Thankfully, he had kept his gloves on, sparing his hands from any injury, but he was now drenched in beer. He stared, as though unsure what had just happened. It was unnerving to Eris, the expression on his face one of bewilderment; she wondered if he had lost touch with reality for a moment.

She would not be at all surprised. She would do the same from time to time.

Neither spoke. He gathered himself, while she waited. There was no rushing these sorts of things, less the mind become more damaged.

“Warlords shot up the place.” His voice was so hoarse, she could barely make it out, “Warlords...found us. They came and slaughtered everyone. Burned the place down.”

It would be a lie if she said she was surprised. This wasn’t a new story. Hundreds of villages had fallen in a similar fashion, that’s why the Pilgrim Guard had formed in the beginning. Those who survived went to the City. Became refugees...just like her parents.

“The Iron Lords...” He croaked out, “they had come...”

She startled when he mentioned them. The Iron Lords were involved somehow? How...how did Eaton fall then? If they were here, then surely the place would have had protection.  
  
“They set us up. Laid a trap. Used us as bait.”

_No! No, he is wrong! There must be some misunderstanding!_

A tremble passed through her. She tried to find a shift in his words, something to give away that he wasn’t being completely honest with her, but all she heard was candor. If it was the truth...did that mean these notions, all these glorious notions she had kept throughout her life, were...wrong? Finally, his eyes left his hand to look to her. Anger churning inside his eyes, and she noticed they were...brown.

_They’re brown now?_

“When I came here...I kept what I was a secret.” There was strength in his voice, but also sorrow, “They didn’t know I was Risen. I told my Ghost to stay hidden, and I pretended to be _normal_.”

Eris swallowed, feeling the longing he was trying to convey to her. Of wanting to belong.

A small smile began to form upon his lips, and his eyes softened just the slightest bit, “No one ever knew my secret. Cause if they did, they would treat me different—and I didn’t wanna be different. But...”

He paused, she could see a memory flashing by, “The village was strugglin’. The land wasn’t very good, and the seasons were harsh. So, I _cheated_ a little.” Humor rising once again to his face.  
  
Eris blinked, unsure what he meant.

“I used my light when no one was around.” He explained, “I would make storms come when there were draughts. Make the soil nice and rich.”  
  
She internally gasped, her form nearly twitching in awe at what he had just described.  
  
_So, he IS a Warlock, after all!_

“I’d even summon wild animals into the area. Make ‘em easy to hunt.” He chuckled, but it was bittersweet, “And they never knew. Some thought it was luck, others thought the Gods were showin’ us mercy...that’s why I stayed quiet.”  
  
Oh, she understood. If they knew of his power—

“They would think you a God.” She spoke for him.  
  
He nodded, “Yeah. I don’t wanna be no God.”  
  
A pause. A far-off look in his eyes, “Do you know how glorious it is to be plain? To live a simple life?”

Something was burning inside of Eris, for in all her years...for everyone she had ever known...she had never met a person so humble as he. Her eyes saw him anew.

He ceased his talk. A second’s pause and then he stood, wiping his hand upon his coat.

“I wanna show you somethin’.” His voice gentle, and there was the hint of a question in his tone. Giving her an opportunity to choose for herself whether she wanted to delve deeper into his past.

She did! Gods above, how she wanted to know!

She bestowed him a nod, and he turned to lead the way, Chim-Ung hovering along.

She followed him, leaving behind the remains of the house—his house—towards a place where the ground lay flat; overgrown with grass and filled with stones. They crossed what must have been the main road, and moved past the rubble of what could have once been workshops and the homes of his neighbors. He moved with reverence, carrying a restraint she had never seen in him, nor did she think he was capable of. The fluidity of his steps, revealing he knew this place, he knew where everything had once stood, and Eris began to think that in his mind’s eye, he was seeing the place he had once known.

_Lanterns and banners strung for the holidays. The smell of wood burning within the hearths. Homecooked meals, and the talk of things that were to come behind walls of wood and steel. Of harvests and family affairs. Of hopes and dreams._

Out here, in the middle of nowhere...how beautiful the stars must have looked in the night sky.

Coming to stand at the edge of a land made of grass and stone, Eris reached The Drifter’s side, looking to him for an explanation, but he said not a word. Instead, his gaze was filled with such heaviness, she could actually feel the burden of it. Should she speak? If she were to say anything, would it be a violation? Thankfully, he was the one to break the silence:  
  
“This is all that’s left of them.” His voice so soft and doleful.  
  
_Them?_

That phrase...the way he said it...it sent a chill through her, and she followed his gaze towards the field; seeking out what he clearly saw. But her eyes were not _seeing,_ for a minute passed, and another, until she finally saw it—and when she did, her heart sank.  
  
The rocks were not random. No, they lay in rows. Hundreds of them, and Eris realized what they truly were. Graves. They were standing on the edge of a graveyard.

_These are the graves...of the people of Eaton._

The rising sensation of dismay and sorrow at the understanding of what lay before her; sinking into the deepest part of her soul.  
  
_His people. His friends._

Silence. A reverence. It hung so heavy in the air, and Eris found herself having to look away. Back to The Drifter and the little Ghost who hovered beside him. She watched as they shared in the same countenance, a fatigue of grief that didn’t feel old at all, but still fresh and new.  
  
She understood this. She knew this.  
  
_It never ends._

“I come here every year. On the anniversary of our deaths. I come to pay respect—to honor them." His voice was soft, almost distant, "For a time...I neglected them. I stayed away for too long. But now that I'm back...I can make up for all the lost time."

The sheer sincerity in his tone, and the humility of his words...a lump was forming in her throat. This was something special, something sacred, and Eris began to feel she was nothing more than an interloper.

_Why bring me with him? I shouldn’t be—_

And then she went cold...terribly cold. His words...a sudden realization at his choice of words. Her heart now pounding. What he said...what he had _just said—  
  
“—On the anniversary of our deaths—”_

_Oh my God...._

The semantic wasn’t lost on her.

“It...it really _is_ your birthday!” Her voice barely a whisper, but filled with all the shock and awe she possessed in that moment.

He hadn’t been joking! He had been serious!

“Yeah,” He acknowledged her words, and paused a moment; biting his lip. “This is the day Germaine died.”

_And The Drifter was born._

He didn’t have to say it out loud. Once again, as usual—as always—she hadn’t given him enough credit, and Eris wanted to slap herself. He had invited her to share in a tradition on the day he was born anew.

Silence once more. Not awkward, but solemn. This was all so much to take in...so much. She was spared from having to speak more, as The Drifter reached out, closing his fingers gently around her wrist. His lifeline...his connection to the present, as he led her into his past. She allowed him to lead her through the sea of grass, Chim-Ung following closely. The breeze whipped up The Drifter’s coat, and her cloak came to join it. The wind entangling them, as if to say: _“Don’t let go!”_ For if they did, one of them would be lost forever.

They came to stand before a mossy stone, plain and unmarked save for the natural blemishes of time, and it shook Eris to realize that this marked where someone lay. She had known death all her life, and she had seen beloved friends fall to it over and over again. But this...what the man beside her was presenting, was something she both feared and loathed.

_The final death. The one from which no soul can return._

“This is Dan-Dan.” His voice soft, yet scratched and raw, “He was the best farmer around. Knew everythin’ there was to know ‘bout cultivatin’ soil and tendin’ crops.”

He paused, gathering his thoughts, and Eris felt he could take all the time he needed.

“He was old.” A chuckle escaped him, “But goddamn! That ol’ geezer had more drive and energy than any of us!”  
  
There was such fondness when he spoke of this man. An appreciation and respect that brought a warmth to Eris’ chest. She could see Dan-Dan in her mind’s eye:

_A small man, darkened and grizzled from years in the sunlight. There was pride in his face, and a strength that defied his age._

A man deserving of respect and honor. What a full life he must have led.

Her thoughts shifted, when The Drifter pulled her along once more, coming to stand at another stone.  
  
“This is Jasper.” She could hear a chuckle building up inside him, “He was a skinny kid who could swap out a rotor faster than ya could spit a lipper!”

The chuckle finally escaped him, and Eris glanced over to find him reliving fond memories of this young man he spoke of—

“He weren’t so good on his feet though—he had the gifted hands of a mechanic, and the feet of a duck!” He barked out his laugh, and leaned forward, towards the stone, “And that’s the truth!”

He wasn’t addressing her, but the man who lay in the grave beneath them. The grace of Jasper must have been a very long-standing argument between he and the other villagers, and Eris found the smallest smile forming on her own lips. Thinking back to a different time— when she had been in Ikora’s fireteam, when she had served with a Guardian named Harmon; a Titan so clumsy he couldn’t tie a proper knot without getting his fingers caught. A never ending source of amusement. It had been so long since she had seen him. She hadn’t the faintest idea what had become of him. Perhaps...perhaps she should ask Ikora sometime.

Her thoughts interrupted as he once again, steered her towards another grave:

“This is Xuan.” He gestured, “She was a seamstress with mad-skills! Trust! Could work with any material,” He paused with a growing smirk, “and she was the most beautiful woman in the village. Ha! Every bachelor had a mad hard-on for her!”  
  
She cringed at his vulgarity. Leave it to him to take a humble, nearly sacred moment and turn it into something crass. Yet still, a thought whispered in her inner-ear:

_Did he?_

She mentally shook herself. What business was it of hers?

“But she didn’t want any of ‘em.” He continued, “She didn’t need ‘em.”

Eris felt a surge of respect for this unfamiliar woman, forming a picture in her mind of a striking beauty of great carriage—perhaps like Ikora, or even Queen Mora Sov. Capable, independent, and intelligent.

The man beside her sighed and she could hear another chuckle starting to rise, “She and I was always buttin’ heads—clash of personalities, blah, blah.” He waved his other hand for emphasis, but then, his eyes took on a warm expression—

“Still...whenever winter was on its way...she’d make me a new coat. Every year—a new coat. Free o’ charge. She would never tell me why my money _wasn’t good enough for her!_ ”  
  
Eris’ heart fluttered. Perhaps...she knew the reason why.  
  
“And once,” His voice softened, a memory washing ashore, “She made me an Ao Dao to wear at Tet Nguyen Dan— wrapped in brown paper, she handed it to me like it was nothin’ special.”

Eris knew what that was...she thought she did. A traditional garb? High collared and buttoned to the side? She thought she had seen people in the City wear them before. Traditional to Vietnam, yes?

“It was a dark mossy green color, and she had even embroidered cranes on it.”  
  
She felt his grip tighten on her; a tremble passing from him to her.

“I wore it on my weddin’ day.”

An utterance filled with intimacy.

“I kept it all those centuries...and I wore it when I married Orin.”

She didn’t know why, but this confession of his...this reveal...it made her bitter. Inexplicably so, and her heart beat faster in anger. Anger at herself for feeling such resentment towards his beautiful memories...of Orin.

_Why do I stray to such places? Such emotional immaturity over a concern that I play no role in?_

She played no role...

He turned to the next grave, pulling her along, and Eris’ mind was a whirl of disbelief.

 _He knows them all! Knows where each and every person rests! After all this time..._  
  
“You remember every detail of this place,” She muttered, “Don’t you?”

“I remember everythin, darlin’.” His tone was lighter as he acknowledged her accurate observation, “I remember everyone I’ve ever met. I remember everythin’ about them. Their manners, their speech, their likes and dislikes.”

The smile that was trying to form gave up the fight, sinking into a frown, “Their hopes, their needs...”

He trailed off, a contemplative silence, and then—

“I always remember. Which is why I always wear this...” He pointed to the bandana wrapped about his head, and Eris was puzzled.  
  
“What do you mean?”

He looked to her, his eyes a commodity of sentiment, “It’s an old custom,” The corner of his lip turned up slightly, as he tapped a finger against the cloth that covered his forehead, “We wear it to mourn.”

Another strike at her heart, and she understood.  
  
_How tragically beautiful!_

A gentle tug, and he continued to lead the way. Toward a new grave, a new person, but—she noticed something different about this one. It did not lay so close to the others, and the stone that marked it was a bit larger.  
  
Then The Drifter inhaled deeply, “This...”

There was a crack in his voice, a sound which startled Eris, and she turned her gaze upon him. Observing how he chewed his lip, while his eyes bore into the stone that lay before them. She said not a word, waiting with reverent patience. He could take all the time he needed, for Eris understood better than anyone how important that was.

“This is Judson.” He finally spoke, “We called him _The Viking_ —'cause of his long blonde hair and beard.”

His hand shook as he raised it to smooth along the top of his own hair. A nervous gesture. An attempt at self-comfort.

“He looked like what ya’d think a Viking would look like, ya know?”

He was fidgeting now, leading into another pause as he swallowed down the emotion which tried to get the best of him.

Eris knew exactly what he was feeling; for she lived with it every single day—

_Guilt._

He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly as he reclaimed himself, “This guy...he was the meanest, nastiest, most belligerent, no-good-son-bitch, you’d ever meet!”  
  
That hadn’t been what Eris expected, and she was taken slightly aback. He was speaking ill of the dead at their grave, and she worried for a moment that perhaps this trip into memory would lead to fouler moods.

But then—

“He was like a brother to me.” Voice cracking with confession. Such sorrow lacing every word.

_Oh, I see._

Strange how humans could be so peculiar in how they formed relationships. Parent to child, sibling to sibling, friend to friend. The ability to abhor someone and yet, care for them all the same. Eris swallowed, nodding in accord. Sometimes...she was afraid. Afraid that perhaps, deep inside, Ikora, Zavala, and even Asher felt that way about her.

_My paranoia. My instability._

It lacked credibility, and she knew how absurd she was being. Thankfully, The Drifter drew her back.

“I couldn’t save him.” His voice carried on the breeze, barely a whisper, and Eris turned to face him fully; her heart dropping at the sight.

He looked worn...broken. A memory was killing him inside.

“He’d been right—” His jaw trembled, “he’d been right ‘bout everythin’, and none of us listened.”

She thought to ask him to delineate. To explain, but she refrained.

“He was dyin’. Bleedin’ real bad...I tried to use the light, ya know?” His nostrils flared, a twitch in his jaw, “But it was too late. I wasn’t quick ‘nough.” His grip upon her wrist tightened, and Eris allowed him the liberty to express his grief.

_What pain so many will never understand._

“His last words...were that he hated me.”  
  
She felt the harsh blow of it, and she thought to ask him why, to ask for context and clarity—but he steered her away once more. Walking just a little faster, with a little more force in his step, as he led her to a circle of graves that sat further away from the others, and immediately, Eris knew these ones were special.

He stopped, she at one side, Chim-Ung hovering at his other. Larger headstones lay before them, and there was a makeshift fence of smaller ones surrounding the area; encasing them in a plot all their own. There was something in the air, and her curiosity and unease increased when she watched Chim-Ung float out to them. Watching as he came to hover before every stone, his little shell dipping for a moment before moving to the next. It seemed...it seemed as though...the little Ghost was _bowing_.

“This is my family.”  
  
Her heart stopped. It was a whisper barely heard, but Eris caught it.

She turned to face him, “Your what?”  
  
He didn’t look at her, his face solemn and eyes fixed forward, watching as Chim-Ung paid his respects.

“The ones who lay here,” His voice hoarse and small, “are my family.”

He couldn’t mean literally. There’s no possible way he meant they were true blood relations. Then again, Eris hadn’t a clue how old the man actually was, and whether or not he had stumbled upon long-lost relatives after his resurrection. He couldn't mean...children either; Risen were incapable of that. They were all reborn sterile.

She watched as he licked his lips, took a deep breath and granted her the knowledge she craved:  
  
“When I was rezzed the first time, I was...lost.”

A pause. A gathering of thoughts and emotions.  
  
“I became feral...wanderin’ through the wilds...and starvin’ somethin’ awful!”  
  
His eyes turned to regard her, “Have you ever starved to death?”  
  
The despondency in his tone, the fatigue in his eyes—she knew it wasn’t meant to be rhetorical.  
  
She swallowed, and shook her head, “No. I can’t say I have.”  
  
“Hm.” He nodded, looking back towards the family plot, “I have. Over, and over...and over again.”  
  
He spoke with such bitterness, and she felt such compassion for him in that moment. Eris had died many times, but always in battle; always at the hands of an enemy. Blade or bullet. She had never died the way he described, and she cringed at the thought of how slow and painful it must have been.  
  
_Pure and absolute agony._  
  
He was much stronger than she had realized.

She was drawn back as a small smile lifted his expression, “But then, we found Eaton. They took me in...saved me.”

He released her wrist and stepped forward, coming to stand beside the largest headstone among the arrangement. Then, with a gesture so gentle and gracious, The Drifter laid his hand upon it. A moment passed, leaving both Chim-Ung and Eris to look on in reverent silence.

“This is Huong.” Another whisper, “When they found me...on the brink of another death...they brought me to her. She was a doctor.”

There was a shudder in his countenance, taking a moment to compose himself before continuing,

“She nursed me back to health. Taught me to walk again...she fed me...gave me a bed to sleep in. She took the time to talk to me, to teach me how to read. She taught me English. She made me feel welcomed.”

Eris swallowed the lump forming in her throat. There was such beauty in how he spoke about this woman—such love.

“She became my mother.”

 _His voice just changed!_  
  
It was subtle, but there was no mistaking it—her sensitive ears had caught the transition, and once again, she knew without a doubt, he had switched characters right before her eyes.  
  
_I’m speaking to Germaine, aren’t I?_  
  
The name the ancient ones had spoken to her. The name that angered him so. She now understood what he had meant—there was no one left to remember that name, and as he had said, Germaine had died with them.

 _Not truly though. He’s still in there—for he speaks to me now._ _Isn’t that right?_

From the corner of her eye, she could see Chim-Ung float towards them, coming to hover before the grave that lay beside Huong’s. Its red-eye gazing down with such melancholy—it was a gesture so unbearably human. The man turned to join him, crouching low with elbows resting upon his knees. He said not a word. He didn’t have to, for Eris could see—by the sorrow of both Germaine and his Ghost...that this grave was the most important one of all.

Carefully, ever so respectfully, Eris moved to join them. Coming to stand beside the kneeling man...she was a stranger looking down upon a hallowed moment. He was with his family again...the ones whom he had loved so dearly.

_And who loved him in return._

He wore an expression of both joy and sorrow. It clenched at her, refusing to let go. She wanted to know...to know all about the one who lay to rest at their feet.

“This is Yu. Huong’s granddaughter. Her daddy was Huong's youngest son.” She caught the twitch in his jaw, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple as he steeled himself to continue, “She was only ten years old.”

 _Oh no. Please, don’t._  
  
Eris swallowed her own distress, sickened by what he had provided her. A horrible casualty in an era of petty squabbles. How could the Gods allow for such barbary? Such cruelty?

_“Children always suffer most in war.” Saint had spoken to her once, “They are true victims. Caught in adult things—things they should not be part of.”_

She had felt the pain and sorrow in the Titan’s voice, and knew he spoke the truth. She had understood the Exo much better in that moment, why he immersed himself in charity—especially where children were concerned.

Her hands trembled at her sides as she stared down at the grave of a child; beneath the soil, innocent and precious.

“I was there when she was born.” Germaine went on, “She was screamin’ somethin’ fierce!” He laughed, “I don’t blame her! Bein’ born must be rather traumatizin’!”

Eris couldn’t help herself, and released a chuckle of her own.  
  
“But when they handed her to me...” He slowly raised his hands, miming the gesture of holding an infant, “She stopped cryin’. Big brown eyes lookin’ up at me, and I remember thinkin’— _Ah! This one’s gonna be trouble!_ ” He laughed again, but it was heavy with a substance not of humor.

There was something so beautiful in this moment. Something Eris couldn’t easily identify, but found herself longing for. Bittersweet.

He continued, “She called me Uncle. I babysat her all the time—she was my little henchman. I’d tell her stories and she’d make me lil’ picture books of ‘em! Ha!” He slapped his knees, “That girl had talent! She’d come to me with these drawin’s she bound together, showin’ one of my stories, and she would demand my _Honest Opinion!_ ”

He burst into laughter, and Eris felt such genuine bliss at his words. Her own smile growing.

“She wanted to be an artist!” His laughter faded to weak chuckles, his eyes glazing over in bittersweet memory, “And believe me....she would’ve been a great one.”

 _The promise of something wonderful. A world denied something extraordinary._ _And for what? Why?_

Her chain of thought was severed.

“She died in my arms...” His voice choked, practically squeaking, and she watched as his trembling hands clutched the fabric at his thighs. Rage and grief boiling over into a mess around him. She felt it, could practically taste it.

_Say that’s not true...tell me a lie instead!_

“I watched her spirit leave her little body,” He continued, his breath becoming heavy, “She said to me... _I can’t feel anything.”_

_Don’t tell me this!_

He was gripping at his clothes—knuckles white, he was going to tear them if he didn’t relent.

“Do you...” His voice trembled, a faint stutter forming, “Do...do...you...realize how strange it all is? Th-that I held her when she was born, and then I held her when she died?”

He was frightening her...he was frightening the hell out of her! This wasn’t the man she knew—this nervous wreck was _not_ the man she knew! And she practically stared in horror as his body shook.  
  
_Dammit! What do I do?! What do I say?!_

She hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected him to lose his composure. Time after time, he had been the calm in the eye of the storm to her twisting madness. _He_ had been the one grounded in reality, while she had fallen to the torture of memories. But now...he was the one needing a stable hand. But, she worried—would it be the blind leading the blind?

Panic was rising in her, and she too began to shake, breath shuddering as she looked to Chim-Ung. Surely the Ghost would know what to do, yes?! But the Ghost seemed equally as troubled. Eris wasn’t surprised. But this was grim. Very grim, and when his breath became erratic enough that she feared he was going to black out, she accepted the fact that she would have to take the initiative.  
  
_What can I do?! I’m broken beyond repair! How can I possibly help him?!_

She clutched at her arms, her own body trembling in response to his own; desperately seeking an escape.  
  
Counting fingers: _1, 2, 3, 4, 5— NO!_

Analyzing texture: _The linen of her tunic...the leather of her gloves—NO!_

It wasn’t working, nothing was working, and she watched as Germaine brought his hands up, cupping them about his mouth to help steady his breath; a way to combat hyperventilation.

 _Do something!_  
  
A panic threatened to spill from her as well.

_What—WHAT DO I DO?!_

And then it came to her—an answer—a memory—

Once, in the days that followed her recovery from comatose, she had been sitting with Asher Mir in the Tower’s arboretum. She had been seeking companionship...an escape from the dark thoughts and wretched feelings which had been tormenting her. Alas, her return from the Hellmouth hadn’t been met with compassion or understanding. Instead, she had spent more time awkwardly shuffling about under the critical and suspicious gazes of everyone.  
  
Ikora had been too emotional, Zavala had been too...mistrusting, and as for everyone else—well, there was good reason she had cut-them all from her life. But Asher...Asher was different.  
  
During that time, as she unloaded her baggage upon him, she had delved too deep. Catching herself before she said anything too incriminating or damaging. But in that desperation for control, she had spiraled into chaos. Body shaking, teeth chattering, breath shallow and choking—she had fallen into a fit of despair. She couldn’t stop, couldn’t think, she had no idea what to do! When all of a sudden—Asher reached out and grabbed her ear. Absurd sounding, yes. The Warlock had reached out, pushing aside the scarf she had wrapped about her head, and took the top of her ear between his forefinger and thumb. He had simply held it before applying pressure...then all at once, in that strange, inexplicable moment...she fell calm. In control once again.

It had been so strange! But it had worked, and afterwards, Eris didn’t feel so awful.

Caught up in the moment, worried at his internal torment...it was all Eris could think to do. So, she came to kneel beside him, and without warning, reached out and took the top of his ear between her forefinger and thumb; pressing lightly against the cartilage. All at once, he tensed beneath her touch, his entire form becoming rigid, but Eris knew there was no way in hell he was more startled than she was at her own actions.

_What the hell am I doing?_

Her heart pounding behind her ribs, she held perfectly still; awaiting a reaction other than shock. Truly though, he had fallen quiet and still—did that mean, it _actually_ worked?

_How does this work exactly?_

A moment of silence. A stillness between them both It was broken when Germaine finally turned his head to regard her, eyes filled with confusion and—

_Oh...damn it._

"Did you just grab my ear?!” He practically shrieked, before bursting into gleeful laughter; as though it were the most amusing thing in the world.

She didn’t move, didn’t answer. Just frowned back into his face, which was aglow with mirth at her actions; it made Eris feel utterly idiotic. So much for trying to help...Perhaps she could save a little face.  
  
“I just need you to calm down.” She let out an exasperated sigh.

But that made him laugh harder, “By grabbin’ my ear?!”

He snorted and giggled, and Eris had enough. She pinched her fingers tighter and gave his ear a harsh twist, causing his laughs to morph into yelps of pain.

“Ow! Jesus!”

She was angry now. He had turned her actions of aide into a joke at her expense, and she was tired of the constant humiliation she seemed to be dealt whenever she shared his company.

_Why am I always losing my dignity when he is near?_

She just wanted to walk away. Besides, she did not belong here. This was his village, his people, his time to spend with them in memory. She’d go back to the sparrow and wait for him to conclude his annual visit.

“I’ll leave you to continue your mourning,” She informed him, “Come find me when it’s time to depart.”  
  
She began to release him, but then—his own hand came to quickly grasp hers; keeping it upon his ear. Eris startled, confusion replacing her anger and embarrassment as he looked her in the eye; no longer hysterical with laughter. No, now he watched her with a gentle smile, and eyes which held such gratitude that Eris no longer knew what to think.  
  
_What is he doing now?  
_  
“I get whatcha were tryin’ to do, Moondust.” His voice was softer, “That’s an old acupuncture trick. I get it.”  
  
Honestly, she hadn’t known that. Asher hadn’t explained his actions, and Eris hadn’t thought to ask.

“Thank you.” He went on, “I appreciate it. Hand to my heart, I do.”

There was such a sincerity about him, that all the irritation that had stacked inside her was washed away with it, and her heart felt lighter in that moment as he applied his own pressure onto her fingers; encouraging her to continue. She didn’t speak. She _couldn’t_ speak. Every nerve in her body was on end, as she looked upon this man who knelt beside her, watching as he closed his eyes and tilted his head to lean into her touch. Content, relaxed. He was absorbing whatever it was she had to offer, and Eris could only remain still and allow him to take.

Oh, what an ache was growing inside of her at the sight of him. Of the softness he revealed in this moment, of the love he clearly still felt for these people.  
  
_“He had heart full of love.”_  
  
Saint-14 had said—

_“But now...his heart is broken.”_

Broken and lonely. Just like her.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever brought here.” His eyes remained closed as he whispered.

Eris’ heart leapt into her throat, unsure what he had meant, but considering his words.

“What do you mean?” Her own voice whispered in return, for to speak any louder would be irreverent.

There was a pause, and she watched him breathe deeply before explaining:  
  
“I always visit alone. I’ve never brought anyone here with me—not even Orin.”  
  
At that, Eris faltered, more confused than before at this confession. He had not shared this cherished tradition with his own wife. It made little sense.

“Why not?”  
  
“Because,” He sighed, and she watched him swallow down whatever was threatening to rise, “Things were just so, perfect with Orin. I was happy. Happier than I’d ever been!”  
  
_Oh, I see.  
_  
Eris understood now. It made all the sense in the world, and Germaine confirmed:

“If I brought her here...it would be so sad. And I didn’t wanna make her sad. It would...it would ruin everythin’.”

That was foolish. She couldn’t help but feel that he hadn’t given the Titan enough credit. Orin would have understood, Orin would have been there for him. Like Eris was trying to do now. But it made her shake to the core, for this realization...for this circumstance.  
  
She was here. That truth, that reality. It was stirring emotions within her. And then Eris Morn did something—something she had never done before in any of the three lives she had led: she allowed instinct to take the helm. She didn’t think about the action, she just...acted. Releasing his ear to stretch her fingers, and slowly, ever so gently, allowed her hand to rest upon his cheek. Holding his face in a gesture so tender, she hadn’t known she was capable of it. Worry flashing by, wondering at what she may have put in motion, and made all the more concerning when Germaine’s hand pressed against her own, encouraging her to hold him; and he pressed his face even deeper into her palm.  
  
Such peace.

And she closed her eyes as well.

A gentle breeze rolled down from the cliffs, and carried with it the sound of distant buzzing and hums. Faint, but Eris still detected it, and she knew that sound. A _Chirp!_ also cut through her speculation, and her eyes flew open, to see Chim-Ung looking towards the canyon with intense scrutiny; like an animal sensing a larger predator in the area. There was no mistaking that noise.

“Pikes.” She looked to Germaine, who released a sigh of pure exasperation in response.

“Yup.” He opened his own eyes, an expression of dull displeasure upon his face, “Raiders have taken over the area.”

He didn’t seem worried in the least, “Goddamn, I was hopin’ for a little more time.”

 _Ah...The Drifter has returned._  
  
That sloppy way of speaking, the growl in this throat. Germaine had left her behind, but it wasn’t any surprise to her. The man was constantly in survival mode. But back to the matter at hand— He _had_ anticipated a potential attack? In fact, he outright expected it? The man was just inanely reckless.

“Welp—” He groaned, releasing her hand as he rose to his feet, “Let’s skiddaddle.”

He held out his hands, helping her to her feet before quickly treading through the grass; making their way back to the sparrow.

Time was of the essence, and neither wasted any time climbing on. Eris placing her hands upon The Drifter’s shoulders to steady herself, as she swung her leg behind the stock of his rifle once more. Her priggish attitude no longer mattered in this moment, it was becoming a life and death scenario, for those pikes were growing ever closer.  
  
_They must be throwing the throttles.  
  
_She was genuinely surprised at their potential speed, and as their own sparrow roared to life, Chim-Ung quickly dove into The Drifter’s pocket. The little lump settling at his hip, and upon Eris’ leg as the man’s coat fell upon her lap once more.

“Hold on.”  
  
Was her only warning before they shot forward, and she squeezed his shoulders as he whipped the bike around to face the canyon; in the direction from whence they came.  
  
But that meant—  
  
“Wait! Why are you heading towards them?!”

“Fastest route!” He winked over his shoulder, brash and mad-capped.

_He can’t be serious!_

It was idiotic! Tactless! But before she could voice an opinion on the matter, he threw the throttle, sending them flying up the trail and towards the ravine.

_FOOL!_

She couldn’t help it. She gripped him a little tighter and leaned forward, her chin hovering above his shoulder as she sought to see from his perspective. The curtain of rocks was approaching rapidly, but based on what she heard, so were the pike riders.  
  
_We’re going to slam right through them—or possibly into them!_

Did he forget she had no Ghost?

The buzzing grew louder, and then, she could see them—there were four, and they were flying right towards them at an alarming rate.  
  
Her heart pounding, adrenaline rising—

_They’re forty meters...thirty meters...twenty..._

They were within range of being shot down, and yet...the raiders didn’t initiate fire. The speed The Drifter maintained and the sudden climb from the valley to the canyon must have thrown them for a loop. They hadn’t expected it.

 _Too fast! Too close!_  
  
“Fifteen meters!” She shouted, a reactionary exclamation born from the disbelief that they were about to slam headfirst into the gang.

“Right!”  
  
“What?!” Was he telling her she was right about her observation, or—  
  
“RIGHT!” He shouted again, and thankfully, her instincts were quick.  
  
_Right—to the right!_

Without hesitation, she wrapped one arm tightly about The Drifter’s waist, as her other grabbed the leather of the holster across his shoulder; holding on with a vice grip as they both threw themselves to the right. Their combined weight rolled the sparrow sideways, causing them to sail past the pikes; avoiding collision. A blur of color as they buzzed by, followed by a _Screech!_ and a horrendous _Crunch!_ ; confirming one of the riders had panicked, lost control and wiped out to his death.

One down, but clearly, the other three were quick to recover, and Eris heard them whip about to give chase. She felt The Drifter begin to throw his weight once more, and she followed, pressing them back into an upright position as they continued onward.

“Woo!” He hollered, “That was close!”  
  
She gritted her teeth, she knew _exactly_ what he had just done. He had been playing chicken with them, and she was displeased with his recklessness; especially when he was involving her!

“Do not resort to brashness!” She informed him, the tactician within her making itself known, “And they’re gaining on us!”  
  
They ducked and weaved around the fallen trees and boulders once more, The Drifter navigating with a speed and focus that was nearly mesmerizing. She had only ever seen such skill among other Hunters, and couldn’t stop herself from silently granting him an iota of admiration. But then suddenly—

A loud _Crack!_ and a blast came sailing past their heads, exploding into the rocks before them. The raiders had finally initiated a fire attack.

The Drifter skirted to the left, dodging the debris that flew past. Then another blast barely missed their knees, striking a boulder at a downwards angle, and forcing him to pull the sparrow up. He locked his feet into the stirrups, and lifted himself from the saddle, as Eris followed suit; locking her knees into the chassis to lift her tailbone. Up and over a cluster of stone and a massive fallen log, the sparrow dropped back down to a proper level, and the two of them returned to their seats; avoiding shattered spines.

The shooting ceased, as the riders navigated around the cluster, trying to maneuver with the same finesse as The Drifter. She heard a _Crack!_ and deduced that one of them hadn’t been quite so skilled. They must have struck their surroundings, because a _Screech!_ followed by a whirling echoed through the canyon, and suddenly—the sound of crunching metal drowned out all other sounds around them, as the pike spiraled out of control. Eris didn’t need to turn around to confirm it, she could visualize what was happening.  
  
The pike was ricocheting off the canyon walls, and the rider was most certainly deceased.

That left two, and they were not giving up the chase.  
  
“Hey, Bladedancer!” The Drifter called back to her, “Can ya sling?!”

She froze, taking a second to process what he meant, and thankfully, she was not slow of learning. Eris knew what he meant, and the challenge in his tone was not lost on her. Despite the perilous situation they were caught-up in, he still had the audacity to tease her. A surge of pride was rising in Eris, a desire to prove her prowess and skill to this former Pilgrim Guardsman.

_He wants a demonstration? So be it!_

She began to reach for the rifle at her leg, prepared to unsnap the straps that held it in place, until a thought occurred—a brassy one beating against her brain—

_I have a much better idea..._

She’d show an old dog a new trick.

Her hand at his waist was brushing against the hand-cannon tucked into the obi-belt at his abdomen, and Eris found she simply couldn’t resist. Her hand closed around it, pulling it swiftly from its home, and she could feel The Drifter stiffen as she took his piece in hand, but he said nothing; allowing her to take it for the strike.

She began to turn back, raising her arm for the counterattack, when she flinched—

_Holy shit!_

It was heavy as hell! Even without her light, Eris was a strong woman, but her arm shook under the weight of the gun, and with this new element added to the formula, she quickly calculated how badly her aim would be compromised.  
  
_Not good! I need more stability!_

It was a six-shot, and with a quick glance over, she determined it was a magnum. A .357 caliber— but, the barrel diameter and length was off. It was longer than standard—it exceeded eight and three-eighths.

_Eight and two-fifths?_

Though the increase in length was minute, it would create better velocity. This was purely customized and if she were to guess, it was specific to him. A gun balanced for his grip, his arm, his center of gravity. It was brilliant; something only he could truly control. But now, it was in her hand, and she had to wield it with as much dominance as he; less they fall to the enemies behind them.

“Face front!” The Drifter issued a command, and though she was once again puzzled at his words, she was a seasoned enough veteran to know when to trust her comrades on the battlefield.

She did as she was told, just in time to grab onto him tightly as he yanked the handles hard, flipping their ride one hundred and eighty degrees to face their pursuers straight on. He threw a switch near the throttle, and she felt the sparrow lurch before suddenly deaccelerating; coming to practically hover in place. He had reversed the thrust, and it was all she needed to take the shot.  
  
He leaned forward, and she knew exactly what he was doing. Giving her the means to lay her arm upon the flat of his shoulder to use it for stability. Gun aimed, while her other hand came to rest upon the hammer. The pikes came hurdling towards them, and Eris calculated they were three and half meters apart, keeping close to one another and perfectly paced.

No hesitation. She aimed towards the one on the right, and with a speed worthy of her class, she pressed the hammer and squeezed the trigger; perfect synchronization.

Two rounds was all she needed. One blasting into the skull of the rider on the right, while the other penetrated between the eyes of the one on the left. Their bodies both jerked back before slumping forward, their dead weights causing the steering of their pikes to veer sideways and into each other. A sickening _Crunch,_ a small combustion, followed by flames and the two pikes spiraled out of control; smashing into the rocks around them.

Crisis averted.

“Haaaa! Damn, girl!” The Drifter burst out laughing, “That was fierce! Drifter like!”

There was a saucy tone in his voice as he spoke those last words, and Eris fought back a sneer. She had just executed a great demonstration of skill, and though she was certain The Drifter was indeed sincere in his compliment, she didn’t appreciate how lurid he made it sound.  
  
A rustle at her knee, and she glanced down to see Chim-Ung shift beneath the fabric of The Drifter’s coat, poking the top of his little shell out so he could peek at her handy work. Still tucked away in his pocket sanctuary, his eye shifted her way, and Eris could swear there was a glint of esteem in his gaze.

“Interesting piece you carry.” Eris indicated the sidearm in her hand, spinning it about her finger to land the barrel in her palm, enacting proper etiquette by handing it back to him stock first. He took it with a chuckle, tucking it into the front of his belt again.  
  
“Nothin’ beats Dark Age smithin’. Finest work in the universe! Trust!”  
  
“Hmm,” She nodded, something teasing rising in her own tone, “I take it you are boasting of your own skill-set in that statement, Rat?”

He laughed harder, “I’m a dyin’ breed, my dear! Only _I_ make ‘em like they used’ta!”  
  
Eris believed him. Tex Mechanica had become the industry standard for gun smithing. Nearly every Guardian in the universe—or mercenary for that matter—carried one of their makes. She herself possessed several models, and though they had served her well, she had to admit, The Drifter carried a work of art that eclipsed anything she had seen from the commercialized company. In fact, she found herself itching to hold the magnum once more; maybe ask his permission for a target session...

Her gaze fell back to the sidearm, “It is a beautiful piece.”  
  
She offered him praise, but instantly wished she could redact it when he looked back to her with the most smug expression she had ever seen.  
  
“Why—thanks, darlin’!” Then he cocked a brow, “Ya we’re referrin’ to the gun, right?” He gestured downwards with his chin, indicating the area where he stored it was in a rather...awkward position; causing _something else_ to be in her direct eyeline.  
  
Heat rose to her face, and she fought the reflexive urge to strike him.

“You debauched bastard!”

He burst into hysterics as she struggled to find another insult to do him justice.  
  
“Of all the disgusting, perverted—”

But she cut her own sentence off. A barely audible _Gasp!_ escaping her lips as The Drifter whipped the sparrow around and threw the throttle into drive once more. The sudden lurch causing her to startle, and she grabbed onto his shoulders once again for stability. Her heart descending from her throat to its proper home, Eris felt her indignity fading into simple annoyance.

He was such a thorn in her side. A complete nuisance! And yet, she forgave him every single time.  
  
_Why?! Why do I tolerate him?!_

She had beaten better men than him for less. In fact, the late Hunter Vanguard had felt her wrath on more than one occasion, when he had been foolish enough to make off-colored jokes at her expense. Cayde-6 had learned the hard way that she was not a woman who tolerated sophomoric humor.

They had butted heads ever since.

_But that’s all ended now._

Her mood shifting at that reality. A painful truth. Despite what everyone had thought...what many had seen and overheard...she had never hated Cayde. No...in fact, he had been that older brother who pushed his younger sister to madness. Now—it had become so quiet in the Tower.

Breaking free from the ravine, The Drifter navigated them into the field of tall grass once more, and without the shadows of rock looming over them, Eris could see the sky above beginning to fall. The sun was setting, and her body seemed to understand this, for she felt fatigue descending upon her. The day had ended. Time to go home.

_Home...  
_

She swallowed down something sour. How she wished—

_No! Stop! Do not wish!_

Her mind too must be falling to exhaustion, for she knew better than to even _think_ such a thing. Her attention shifted to the bag at her hip...always at her hip—focusing, listening.  
  
Silence. It had not spoken this entire day.

_Good._

In the distance, she could see the silhouette of her ship, still docked at the bank of the river, but whether it had truly survived remained to be seen.

_Trust. Trust that he had been right._

True. Why worry and be so fretful? What had happened to the days of reckless abandon and walking on fire?  
_  
Buried long ago in a pit far, far away._

The temperature had dropped once again, and the breeze that whipped past them sent a brief chill through her, causing her to lean forward, trying to slide her legs a little deeper beneath The Drifter’s coat. She could feel his heat...that fire inside of him that burned like a bonfire.

 _He’s made of magic_.

Her thoughts trailing to a strange place, as she contemplated once more the question of his identity—

_He performed miracles. He called storms and healed the land._

Yes. Eris was certain she had the answer—but what difference did any of it make?  
  
_Warlock._  
  
None whatsoever.

She had lost herself deeply enough that she hadn’t noticed their return, until The Drifter cut the engine.  
  
“Well,” He cleared his throat, “Looks like it still stands, sistah! Hallelujah!”

She blinked, eyes following his line of vision towards her ship, confirming that he was indeed correct; there wasn’t a mark upon it.  
  
“Hm.” She nodded her agreement, “Well, Rat...it’s been another interesting excursion.”  
  
“Ain’t it been, though?!” He unleashed a bark of laughter, grinning over his shoulder at her.

She curled her lip, “I was being ironic.”

“So was I!”

She nearly snorted out loud at the quick rebuttal, but truth be told, she was not at all resentful of how the day unfolded. In fact, she was rather flattered he had wished to share such a private and sacred tradition with her. Alas, the problem that seemed to plague her whenever they parted ways was rearing its ugly head once again; she wasn’t sure what to say.

 _Perhaps, I shouldn’t say another word._  
  
No, maybe just a “ _thank you”_ would suffice...

He was silent, and she figured he was waiting for her to climb down so he could depart.

 _Just say thank you and leave._  
  
It had been an emotional day for them both. Too much time spent in the past, that Eris felt it was best not to allow it any further hold upon them. But as her feet made contact with the ground, and she opened her mouth to speak, he spoke first—

“Ya used to wear your hair long.”

She froze.

_What did he just say?_

The comment had been so offhandedly tossed her way, that she questioned whether she had heard him correctly. Slowly, she turned her gaze upon him, but he didn’t look at her in return. His eyes were focused on the river flowing by.

"You had long jet-black hair that fell all the way down your back, and sometimes, you’d wear it in a French braid.”

_That’s right. I did!_

Her heart began to race, and her hands that held the seat were trembling; the fabric of her gloves chafing against the leather as her fingers curled.

 _What is he doing? What is he talking about?_  
  
She wanted to voice her concerns, but nothing was coming forth. Confusion, unease...

“You had hazel eyes.”  
  
And that statement struck her like a bullet to the chest.  
  
“And when the light hit ‘em just right,” He went on, “they looked green—like an olive. They were deep-set with long lashes and you would line ‘em with dark eyeshadow.”  
  
She was caught in a stupor as she watched him. Watched as a smile spread across his face. He laughed, “You had an edgy style to ya! Sometimes you’d paint your lips to match your eyes...and it suited ya perfectly.”

She could no longer breathe, he was dredging up memories of the Eris Morn who had lived in the Tower once upon a time, and it appeared he wasn’t finished—

“Ya’d do this... _thing_ with your hands when you were talkin’.” He lifted his own to demonstrate, flicking his wrists, “You’d roll your fingers like this—especially when ya got worked up about somethin’.”  
  
She remembered how she would talk with her hands. Back then, she had been so lively and animated, that people would actually flinch away; afraid she might strike them by accident.

_How does he remember all this?!_

Something was twisting inside her now, and she clutched the seat a little tighter.

“—and when ya did get excited, you’d just...” He searched for the right word, shrugging his shoulders, “light up!”

There was such fondness in his voice when he said it. Humor lacing his words...what beautiful memories he was conjuring, and Eris was falling under the spell of it.  
  
_Summer days when it was too hot to care about anything. Sitting upon the rooftops with her friends, scantily clad to combat the heat, and talking about the inconsequential—of music and books—only to realize in old age how much they actually mattered._

“When ya laughed, you’d bring your hand up and cover your mouth with your sleeve.”

 _I did...I always did that._  
  
She watched as he shook his head, a furrow in his brow, “I never understood why ya did that, ‘cause ya had a very pretty smile.” There was clear confusion in his tone.

_Because I disliked my smile...my lips are too full and my bottom teeth are crooked. I was embarrassed._

There was something sentimental about how he spoke. He wasn’t reciting these things to her— No, he was caught up in his own memories as well, and it was frightening how he could recall so much detail about her! They had not been close. She had only known of him because of his constant proximity to Orin, and even then...she could never remember his name.  
  
He had been unimportant. A Pilgrim Guardsman of no merit. No...he was not Saint-14, or Orin The Sunbreaker, or the mighty Jashen Braier. He was just...a nobody.  
  
_Thin, average, and dressed in the plainest clothes. Long dark hair hanging in his face and down his shoulders. He bore no banner, wore no armor, and could not hold a candle to the men and women of polished might he stood beside._

How unusual he had been. He had stood out, and yet blended in at the same time. Eris had paid him no mind. He was just a hanger-on to Orin, another fan vying for the beautiful Titan’s attention; a man seeking her approval and possible affection. Just like all the others who over-stayed their welcome in her presence.

But oh, how wrong Eris had been! Lord help her, she had been so terribly wrong! He hadn’t been pursuing Orin...he had already won and claimed that prize.  
  
_Of course he was always around. Orin was his wife. But why...does he know so much about me?_

“Ya were always hummin’ under your breath,” He began again, “and ya used to carry ‘round this lil’ toy...like on a key chain. It was a blue cat with a yellow scarf.”

Eris fought down the gasp that nearly escaped her.  
  
_Pepito?! No..no he couldn’t possibly...he remembered that?!_

Pepito. Her little good luck charm. She had carried him everywhere, but had lost him long ago. She had _loved_ that little thing, and her heart had broken when she discovered he had come loose from his chain. She had searched—so had Ikora, and the others of her fireteam, even the Ghosts! But she never saw Pepito again.

She hadn’t thought about her little plastic companion in so long, she had nearly forgotten about him. But The Drifter...he had caused her to remember. How could she have lost herself so badly that she forgot Pepito?

“Ya were different...” A smile curled his lips, “...unique. There was no one else like ya, Moondust.”  
  
A finality in his tone. He had finished his monologue, and Eris was rendered speechless. What could she say? What could possibly be said that would hold a torch to what he had just revealed?  
  
And finally, he turned to look at her, glancing over his shoulder with a smile, “See? I really do remember everythin’.”

It was astounding.  
  
_He had noticed me...but I hadn’t noticed him._

Her heart was heavy and yet, light at the same time. Like a wave upon the sand, pushing and pulling emotions that she wasn’t quick enough to sort. She should say something— but what?

He spared her by speaking once more, “Thank you for comin’ with me today.”

She should be thanking him, and now, she finally knew what to say:

“It was an honor, “ Her voice was lower than she intended, but it was thick with affectivity, “Thank you for inviting me.”

The world around them was falling into twilight, and in the sky peppered with the first ambitious stars, Eris could see Luna trying to push through Sol’s dying glow. Her home. Her prison. It was time to go.  
  
But...oh, how she wished she could find a reason—

“Good night.” She bowed her head to him, and he returned the gesture.

“Safe trip, hun.”

A little _Chirp!_ from his pocket, and she glanced down to see Chim-Ung gazing up at her, bidding her farewell in his own way.  
  
“Good night, little one.” She bowed her head once more, offering the Ghost the honor and respect he had certainly not experienced in ages.

And with that, she began her stroll towards her ship, that had indeed, remained untouched.

_I’m ending this too abruptly...should I have said more?_

Heaven’s mercy, she was falling into emotional turmoil. Her heart and her mind at odds with each other, and she began to worry at what he could be thinking.

"Ya know—” The Drifter called out, silencing her thoughts immediately, "This is date number two!”

Eris nearly jumped, pausing in her trek to round on him with wide eyes and elevated ire.

“What did you say?” She had heard him, it was simply an exclamation at his gall.

_Oh no...not this again!_

He chuckled, cocky smirk back in place, “That was our second date! And I gotta say, Moondust...” He leaned forward and winked, “Ya really know how’da show a boy a good time!”  
  
She was flabbergasted. Searching her mind for an effective rebuttal, a way to reclaim her dignity, but before anything effective emerged, The Drifter flipped the sparrow back to life and with one final cheeky grin, sped off; disappearing into the falling night.

The hum of the engine fading like the light above, until she heard it no more. He was gone, and she was left alone to her thoughts.

_That blackguard!_

Once again, he had set her up, and she had walked right into it. But still...she couldn’t help the smile that creeped across her lips, and the chuckle that lifted from her chest, for in this moment, she had come to a realization about herself. She wasn’t miffed at all. In fact, she was rather amused. But then—

_Wait...WAIT!_

An epiphany...an enlightenment. Those questions she had asked herself at the beginning of their journey, how she had scrutinized his actions and the lack of logic they seemed to contain— she now had the answer. He had wanted to spend time with her. And not just time spent within the confines of his ship, seated for a meal and a game of cards. No, he had taken her for a ride in the countryside. Just the two of them. Just like he had said—a second date. She chewed her lip. Something warm behind her eyes.

_Oh, how far have we come? How far have I?_

And as she stood beneath the purple sky, those eyes of hers not bothered by the dark, she thought back to what had been brewing inside of her. Of how she wished she could find a reason—an excuse...not to go home to Luna.  
  
But to go home with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Easter Egg: In Vietnam when a loved one dies, the men will wear bandanas that are wrapped in a specific manner about their heads in a gesture of bereavement. The bandana The Drifter wears is in the exact funerary style worn to grieve. Think about that next time you interact with him in the game. He is forever in mourning.


	10. Concentration

Her heart was hammering—slamming against her ribs, and Eris hunched over in pain. Her mind a storm raging with unfortunate truths, images of something terrible that she could not turn away from.

A whisper, a cold breath. A repeated command:

**_“Look! LOOK!”_ **

And she had no choice but to do as she was told.

**_“You had asked. You had begged. Now—you try to turn away?”_ **

She could not argue, for in all the lies it had ever spoken...there was truth. A pin-prick of gospel she could not blaspheme against.

The night had been long...longer still as she made her way through the cold and the dark of space. Curled upon herself in the cockpit of a ship that stank of Hive. Choking on the pain and the overwhelming sorrow she could not quell. Those dreams...those _nightmares_! Playing out over and over again!

_I can’t breathe!_

Hand upon her chest, teeth gritted and eyes burning something fierce, she coughed and breathed as deeply as she could. An attempt to self-soothe, to reclaim herself.

_I am in control—I command myself!_

A laugh inside her head.

_QUIET!!_

How dare it be so cruel! After all she had done for it! She wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold on.

It had begun with the fireflies.

_The amber glow of specks that floated up and away—all around her in the night._

_But Eris knew the truth. They were not in fact fireflies._

_Whispers. Tears. The ones who would not see the truth, floating away like dust brushed from a mantelpiece. Fools...it would be sad if it were not so pathetic, but Eris Morn had no tears to shed, and no more heart to ache for them._

_Standing on the steps of a conquered sanctuary, no longer the chancel of those who served the Light. It was once her home. No more._

_The wind tore at her, as she looked upon the multitudes; at the ones who had laid down their arms. They stood before her, frightened, confused—and she could feel the collective trembling of their forms shake the very stones beneath her feet._

_And OH! How glorious it felt!_

_No longer did she hide beneath layers of textile. No more did she wrap her skull and cover her eyes. She stood before them all, completely bare. Green eyes that pierced through the dark, wearing a crown of spikes and thorns upon her head, fabrics woven from the shadows themselves—alive and creeping about her body in a liquid gown of sentience, and upon her throat...a necklace made of Widow’s Tears._

_What a sight she was!  
  
Human, Cabal, Fallen, and Awoken. The half-breeds, the monsters, the forgotten people of insignificant worlds that hung like baubles in the universe. The Hive themselves. All staring at the savage beauty that was Eris Morn. Their conqueror. Their queen. Their salvation—but only if they accepted the truth._

_That glowing orb in her hand—chuckling. Congratulating her._

_“Serve me.” She addressed the people gently, for there was no need to raise her voice in command, “Worship me...Love me.”_

_The scent of ash and burning ember. Of fuel and gunpowder. Of magic and fear. The air was strong with it all. That breeze that teased her hair, the cold of the ink that moved across her skin. Locks in-tangling in the crown upon her head, and the chitin she had traded her life for so long ago._

_“Do so...and you shall live forever.” Such a promise, “I will set you free.”_

_And she meant it._

_A hush had fallen upon the world, as one by one, they all fell to their knees and bowed their heads low to honor her. Resistance no longer an option, and though it was fear that drove them to surrender, Eris Morn knew that in time, they would come to thank her; for she was kind and merciful._

_Her eyes that saw so much regarded them all. Many faces she recognized prostrating themselves before her, vowing to love her as she requested. But there was one in particular...one she could not find..._

_Her eyes scanning, seeking, but finding no sign of him. The one who had told her stories beautiful beyond compare. The one who had uttered secrets and revealed mysteries...who had spoken of love...whispering such unbridled passion into her ear that it made the very stars rain down upon her. The one who had killed her softly with every breath..._

_The man made of fire—he was not among them._

She had shot awake, fear gripping her tightly as she gasped, clawing at the blanket she slept beneath. Flailing out of her bed and onto the floor, she had sat in petrification, panting for breath, eyes wide in terror. It had been a dream. A nightmare. It wasn’t real...it hadn’t been real—and yet, she could still smell the death and the destruction.

_What am I seeing? WHY am I seeing this?!_

This had been the fourth night—the same image for four nights! It meant something...an omen? A warning? A trick? She most certainly could not rule out the notion, however, it did not change the terror and the anguish she was assaulted with. Knees pulled to her chest, hands shaking violently as hyperventilation began to seize her lungs. She had to stop! Had to breathe and calm herself! Total and absolute panic had taken her, and she fought back as hard as she could. But it was difficult...so very difficult to be alone in these times. Through the years, she had discovered ways to keep herself grounded, to pull herself back when she began to fall into oblivion, but—

_This...this is different._

Help. She needed help!

Her whole body shaking, teeth chattering and lungs struggling for air, as she slowly came down onto her hands and knees; beginning an agonizing crawl towards her nightstand—towards her data pad...the tool for her salvation.

_Please...oh please..._

A whimper was rising up inside her, and she imagined that she must look as a pathetic as she felt. Scrawny little thing crawling upon the floor...

**_“In the filth and the dust where you belong. You are made of Moondust....”_ **

That horrible voice! Whispering from the pack she had sealed it away in, across her tiny hut upon Luna.

**_“Moondust....”_ **

_Be silent!_

She continued to crawl, slow-going and painful against her bones.  
  
**_“Moondust...”_**

Using that name...that name to taunt her!

**_“Moondust...”_ **

Her blood ran cold, as the whisper shifted, taking on a new tone. One of playfulness; a raspy drawl— _his_ voice.

_How dare it— HOW DARE IT!_

Whipping her head to look over her shoulder, her entire body tense in barely contained fury, as she directed it towards the pouch that hung from the back of her only chair.

“SHUT-THE-HELL-UP!” She screamed. Screamed util her vocal cords strained, “I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR INSOLENCE! DON’T YOU DARE MOCK ME!”  
  
Panting. Trembling. The outburst left her weaker than before, having unleashed all the energy she possessed inside. Her arms buckled beneath her, and with as much force as she could muster, Eris shoved with all her might, pressing up through her shoulders; catching herself before her face could hit the floor. The musty scent of moon soil and concrete striking her nose, nearly causing her to sneeze.

It was too much. All too much...and she whimpered at the unfairness of it all.

_...why?...why me?..._

She hadn’t asked for any of this. To be a slave to a cause that tormented every moment of her broken life. To be the lending ear to a cosmic imperium. And yet...it was true that she had placed herself at the forefront of everything— of her own volition, and in this acknowledgement of her egomaniacal desire to play the hero...she had come to accept a truth about herself.

_I am mad._

Forever indebted to an ancient deceiver. She had lost her light, and as such, had not known how to survive without it. What a fool she was! What a coward and a fraud! She fought. She fought so hard to stay sane, but a sob escaped her and she squeezed her eyes shut. Trying to will it all away.

_“Do you know how glorious it is to be plain? To live a simple life?”_

The Drifter’s words flowed back to her, and she felt longing for that joy he had once known. Why couldn’t things have been different? She could have found a way...like him.

A deep breath to steady herself, and she began to crawl once more, reaching the nightstand on still shaking hands and knees. It took all her effort to reach up and pull the data pad into her grasp; nearly dropping it in the process.

_I need Asher...I need to speak with Asher!_

She needed to talk with him! To tell him about her dream! Asher would know what to say...he would know what she should do! And so, with shaking hands, she scrolled through the contacts upon her device; quickly putting a call through to Asher’s channel.

 _Beeping._ Again, and again.

No answer.  
  
She let it go on, continuing to hail him. He had to answer... _had to,_ for Asher always answered her calls.

_Asher...where are you?_

The _Beeping_ of her hail continued without disruption. Her jaw beginning to tremble, breath hitching in her throat. Her friend...her dearest friend was not answering...

_Why?! Why won’t he answer?!_

Then a sob escaped her, one filled with desperation.

“Please...please, Asher, please!” Her voice a whisper, choking on the pain that sat heavy in her throat.

Nothing.

It was like a knife cutting into her chest. Severing the final string of hope she had left.

...alone...alone...ALONE!!

A quick shout of pure anguish passed her lips, and she raised the data pad to hurl it against the wall. An expression that would release the rage boiling inside her —but she stopped; enough self-control slipping through the cracks. Impulsive. So impulsive...she felt shame beginning to drown the dejection.

What purpose would it serve to shatter her only connection to the outside? No. How foolish to isolate herself further, and with that thought, she brought the device to rest upon her lap; severing the call.

Silence became her world once more.

_What do I do?_

Shaking almost violently, her fingers tightening in a death grip upon the pad in her lap.

_What do I do now?!_

_Calm. Be calm._

She needed to focus, needed to find relief. Counting down her fingers and toes –

_20, 19, 18, 17, 16, 15, 14, 13, 12, 11—_

It wasn’t working—it no longer worked! Teeth gritted against the wracking sobs that shook her violently, and she tilted her head back, smacking it repeatedly into the wall behind her.

_Make it stop! Make it stop!_

Hiccups, spittle that fell from her lips as she wailed.

_Someone pleeeeeease! HELP MEEEE!_

And then— everything went still.

Her mind fell silent. The tremors in her body subsided. Calm—eerily so.

She felt nothing, staring straight ahead into the shadows of her room. Seated upon the floor in abnormal stillness...as though someone had flipped a switch. And in this abrupt moment of clarity, Eris began to watch herself once more. That feeling of floating, leaving her body to see herself brush her fingers along the screen of her device; automatic, trance-like.

Selecting a tab. Opening a channel. Then the _Beeping_ began again.

A hail into space—reaching out to touch someone, lasting only seconds before they picked up—

“Yeah, Moondust?” A growl and a sigh over the speaker alerted Eris that she had just stirred The Drifter from slumber.

An iota of guilt tingled in her head, but she was not deterred from the request she was about to make—

She opened her mouth...but found she could not speak.

A pause.

“Hello?” He sounded annoyed, “Ya there, Three-Eyes, or did ya pocket dial me?”

What should she say? What did she even want from him?

Her lips moved, but produced no sound. Weak. Broken.

_Oh please...please give me the strength!_

An exhausted sigh spilled forth from her device, she could hear him rustling about in the sheets of his own bed, “Okay, I’m hangin’ up—”

“I need to see you.”

Finding her voice at last, she cut him off.

“Huh?” His confusion was clear to her ears, most likely stirring him into further wakefulness.

She swallowed, heart rising into her throat, “May I...” She swallowed, “May I please come to you?”

A pause.

“Now?”

“Yes.” It came out a squeak, and she swallowed back her shame.

_Pathetic. So pathetic._

What did it matter?

Another pause, this one longer than before, and Eris’ blemished mind began to worry all the more—would he abandon her too?

“Yeah, okay...um...” He cleared his throat, “I’m in orbit over the EDZ.”

A rush of warmth, the shock of joy, and Eris froze at his words. He hadn’t turned her away, he would allow her to come—and her heart ached all the more.

“Thank you.” A whisper, and then she let him go.

Now, Eris was docked in the hangar of The Derelict, trapped inside the confines of her own ship, as the panic and torment took hold of her once more. The ancient bastard whispering awful things to her from the confines of its cage! Sitting at her hip, speaking lamentable truths...oh, how she wished she could crush it in her palm! Silence it forever!  
  
“Be quiet!” She hissed, “Cease your frivolous banter and leave me in peace!”

Hands shaking once more, as she brought them to her face. Adding pressure to the sides of her head.

_Breathe. Breathe._

**_“Silly little girl.”_ **

A whisper in her mind.

**_“Seeking out those things in which you have no business. Have you learned nothing?”_ **

Truth. Reality. She had indeed been taught a gruesome lesson long ago.

**_“You have been given a chance. You have been given the power.”_ **

_No!_

**_“These dreams of yours...”_** A shudder, much like a chuckle in its dreadful voice, ** _“They hold a promise—”_**

“NO!” She shrieked, hands forming into fists to come crashing down upon the instrument panel, “SHUT-UP! I WILL NOT LISTEN TO YOU! LIAR! WRETCH!”

Another slam of her fists to emphasize her point.  
  
“I AM NOT SO WEAK AS TO FALL PREY TO SUCH GUILE!”

She growled like an animal backed into a corner, shoulders trembling violently as she hunched forward. Panting for breath as the last reserves of her strength departed. Fatigue weighing down upon her. Too much to bear! But her mind was quickly shifting into another matter altogether—

How long had she been sitting there?

In all the turmoil, she had lost all concept of time. In fact— she didn’t remember arriving at The Derelict at all!

_What happened?_

Eris blinked, allowing a small amount of clarity to reclaim her. When had she arrived? How long had she been docked? This realization that she had lost time...lost all awareness of her surroundings sent another wave of anxiety through her.

This was certainly not the first time this had happened— Once, not long after she had awoken from comatose, she had been sitting upon the floor of her Tower apartment, the morning sun pouring in through the window, as she was caught up in the throes of tormented memories. She had been sobbing, staring ahead at the small bookshelf she kept, when suddenly she had found herself standing on a sidewalk in the financial district of the City. Night had fallen, and try as she might, Eris could not recall how she had come to be there, and what had transpired in those lost hours of the day. It was terrifying, and she had quickly made her way back to the Tower, speaking to Asher of it the following day. The Warlock had suggested several explanations, but it had done little to put her at ease.

She had done it another time as well. Cayde-6 and Amanda Holliday had been the ones to find her—about to step off the roof of the hangar to her death. She had snapped back to reality when Amanda had screamed, and Cayde had blinked to her side, grabbing her in a vice-like grip and yanking her back from the edge. Disoriented and confused, Eris had panicked and struck the Hunter Vanguard who hadn’t flinched at all to her blind attack. Instead, he managed to grab her flailing arms, pinning them to her sides as he held her in a bear hug; speaking firmly in her ear for her to calm down. Amanda had rushed forward, rapidly firing questions about whether she was alright and if they needed to get a medic.

It had taken a good while for Eris to return to herself, and during that time, Cayde had sat with her upon the rooftop. Arms holding her still, pulling her back against his chest in a gesture of comfort. He had allowed her to take her time—no complaints, no disrespectful remarks, no inappropriate jokes...no, he had been kind, patient and understanding. Something she had never seen in him before.  
  
The Exo had never known...Cayde had never known how grateful she was for him saving her that day. For sitting with her all through the evening. He never knew...

Now, sitting in the cockpit of her ship, this would be the third time if she remembered correctly...but Eris had a strange feeling it was actually one of a dozen.

 _Tap! Tap!_  
  
She jumped at the sudden noise, head whipping up to see a red eye looking in on her through the windshield. Chim-Ung...

Relief washed over Eris at the sight of the little Ghost, a sense of comfort falling upon her at the mere sight of him. He had come to see if she was alright, tapping gently upon the glass to coax her back into the now.

It was enough...just enough.

Unfortunately, with this awakening came total clarity of the situation in which she had found herself.

_Oh no...no...NO!_

Looking down, she realized what she had done—

Hands ungloved, no armor, her cloak haphazardly pulled upon her head with a veil to cover her eyes—sloppy, so very careless! In her haste and desperation, she had not taken the time to dress herself properly before departing! Glancing down further, she saw her bare feet and blanched—she hadn’t even pulled on her shoes! This was bad...this was so very bad! Half-dressed and shaking in madness—she could not let him see her this way! Then it struck her—her senses suddenly coming alive with the smell of dust, of sweat and Hive, and her heart sank when she realized it wasn’t her ship that stank—it was _her._

_Oh God!_

She was filthy! Half-dressed and reeking!

No! No, no! She couldn’t let him see her like this!

Should she leave? Start the engine and fly away? She could just—

“Moondust?”  
  
_Too late._

She could hear him through the glass, and after a moments pause, she turned to see The Drifter standing upon the catwalk; gazing out at her with a look of absolute confusion. Brows furrowed in an expression that could read as worry.

“What’re ya doin’?” He called out.

_How long has he been standing there?_

He looked...different. A slouched beanie upon his head where his bandana usually sat, hands stuffed into the pockets of a simple cargo jacket—trying to keep warm in the cold. It was _terribly_ cold outside—the sky still dark in the early hours before dawn...

_Oh...how awful I am..._

She had pulled him from his bed in the freezing night! If she left...if she turned around now...it would be the most cruel and inconsiderate thing she could do. But still— she was not presentable.

_What do I do? What do I say?_

Panic rising as she tried to fight back with deep steady breaths, her eyes shifting towards Chim-Ung once more, as the Ghost cocked his shell in an inquisitive manner. _She_ had requested their company, _she_ had been the one to disrupt their harmony.

She couldn’t leave.

Her hands shaking as she raised them, popping the airlock open with a _Hiss!_ Her mind racing, trying to find an excuse...to find a distraction...

_I can’t face him like this!_

“Ya alright?”

Her eyes darting back to the man, watching her carefully and with a whit of suspicion. She often forgot just how observant he could be, and even if her behavior wasn’t so flagrantly strange—he still would have sensed the turmoil. For all the skill she had developed in impassivity, she had yet to fool this man. His question still lingering in her head.

_What do I say? The truth?_

Her anxiety was relentless, keeping her mind in turmoil. Unfocused, losing discipline.

_I need...I need..._

Her breath shuddering as she wrung her hands in her lap.  
  
“I need...” Her lips moved, but nothing else came forth.

_What? What the hell do I need?_

She needed clarity. She needed perspective.

“I...need...” Voice shaking, something breaking inside—

She needed liberation.

She gasped and shuddered as a sudden sensation of vertigo fell upon her, and her hand shot up to press against her head. Breathing deeply—

“Please...” She choked, unsure if he heard her from his distance, “I...need...”

She needed _him._

Fading in and out. Head spinning. The smell of her clothes, the feeling of dust and grime upon her skin—she was so disgusting!

_I am filth!_

Humiliation on the line, she blurted out—

“I need to use your shower.” Her words came in a flurry, nearly a bark of sound, and she froze when she realized what she had just said. It wasn’t what she had meant to say, but it was the truth. She could feel the oils and the grease upon her skin. The sweat that had stuck to her hair and embedded itself into her skin...the dust smeared upon her face.

She obviously had fallen nose blind at some point, but now—she could smell herself!

_How awful!_

She glanced The Drifter’s way, heart hammering in her chest as she waited for...something— _anything!_ But he simply stared back.

_Did he hear me?_

It was shameful—so shameful.

“Please,” She swallowed, trying again, “May I please use your shower?”

Even from where she sat, she could see his gaze narrow and take on a dissecting air. He was studying her—analyzing the situation, and she watched a puff of steam escape his lips as he opened his mouth.

“Sure, hun.”

He spoke so pointedly, his tone almost suggesting that she needn’t ask, and there was something about that...something that made her tremble harder and her distress to rise. Since when had he opened the rest of his ship to her? It didn’t matter. She needed to be clean—needed to wash away that which was consuming her.

Perhaps in cleansing herself literally, she would purify herself figuratively.

**

He had led her deeper into The Derelict. Down corridors, and across stairways she had never contemplated, and in her mad haze, she was able to draw enough lucidity to understand how large his ship actually was. Too large for a single person.

_How does he possibly keep it operatable without a crew?_

Frankly, she was too tired, and too distressed to ask, and so, let the thought go.

He had led her to the washroom—an open stall with a simple shower head, and after pointing out a jar of soap she could use and giving her a fresh towel, he left her to it.

Now, Eris sat upon the shower floor, knees drawn to her chest, and arms wrapped about them; trying to lock in as much security as she could. allowing the water to rain upon her, and despite it being much hotter than what was preferably safe, Eris simply didn’t care.

It allowed her to feel something. Something external.

Her mind wandering in a hundred directions. Wrestling with logic and reason against the emotional mess she had swept under the proverbial rug. Too long had she left it there to rot.

And now—here she was.

Tilting her head down, trying to protect her third eye from the water, she allowed herself to slip into a relaxed condition—or at least try as best she could.

Listening...feeling...focusing.

The rapid _Pat! Pat! Pat!_ of the water striking the floor—it sounded similar to rain.

The steam permeating the air – like the fog of a coastline.

She breathed in the humidity, let it flood her senses, allowing some semblance of healing to take place. But only for a moment—she would not waste his time nor his water. She needed to wash away the filth—scrub away the feelings of self-revulsion. God, how she hated her body! So damaged, so ugly!

_Stop! Stop...focus!_

She raised her head, glancing about for the jar of soap The Drifter had given her permission to use, and she spied it upon the floor beneath the shower head. With an ache in her legs and hips, she pushed herself onto all fours, and crawled across the shower; taking it in hand. A simple jar with no label— it was homemade for sure, and similar to molasses in appearance, and as she twisted the lid free, her senses were assaulted with an earthy smell. _His_ smell.

_So...it’s his soap I’ve detected._

That smell...of earth after it rained. It had come from this.

_What a simple thing it is..._

She took a portion in hand, beginning with her hair, and as her fingers began to rub the grease and the oil she had allowed to build up for too long—they struck against the horrible reminder of her reality. Cringing at herself. At the chitin that had formed along her skull—

_Goddammit...GODDAMMIT!_

Hands trembling as fingers came to clutch at the hair in her scalp. Trying to hold on—hold on to anything as the tremors returned in full force.

_Don’t think—don’t think about any of it!_

Once, not too long ago to be precise, there had been a meeting between Ikora and herself in the Tower, and after watching the Warlock fidget and turn away from her several times, Eris had finally demanded to know what was bothering the Vanguard. Ikora had eventually blurted out that she could no longer endure her, and had stated none to subtly, that Eris was in desperate need of a bath.

It had hurt. It had been a blow to her pride, but Eris realized that her friend was indeed correct. However, so furious and embarrassed was she, that she had done something terribly foolish—She had angrily taken a knife in hand and attempted to remedy the situation for good—and proceeded to violently remove all the hair from her body. She had practically flayed her legs, and the long hair she had spent centuries growing down to her hips was hacked away; leaving a choppy and bloody pixie behind. She had nicked the small protrusions that had formed upon her skull...those deformities that had sprouted forth when she...when that _bastard_ had given her the key to her liberation.

It was a horrific scene, and she had marred herself terribly. The healing scabs itching and pulling uncomfortably. It had been such a senseless thing to do, and Eris had instantly regretted it. Now, her hair had grown back somewhat—reaching just below her chin, and the scars upon her legs had begun to fade.

_Never again._

And yet...she still despised what she saw.

She took more soap in hand and began to scrub at her flesh, flinching at the sensation of every bone that lay too shallow beneath her skin—

_Oh..how awful!_

Trembling in realization—as she looked down at herself.

Anemic skin stretched tightly over bone that protruded viciously at her ribs, elbows and knees. Sunken flesh over her pelvis, and tendons clearly seen with each twitch of her fingers and toes.

She was sickly...so very feeble in appearance!

Her breath quickened, acknowledging how foolish she had been.  
  
_“You need to eat! Your behavior in regards to nutritional intake has now traversed the line of ludicrous negligence!” Asher’s bold accusation.  
  
“Eris,” Ikora’s gentle and worried tone, “Have you made time for a meal?”_

Each and every time they had commented, criticized—

 _“Hey Creepy! Wanna get lunch? My treat!”_ _Even Cayde had judged the situation and tried to mettle._

 _“I am fine, I assure you!”_ Had been her chant. Over, and over, and over again!

_“Eris, would you consider meeting with a doctor? Hear what they may have to offer?” Zavala trying so hard to help, but lacking the ability to truly be earnest._

How she had hated them all for it!

But now—

Breath hitching as the water cascaded over her languid skin...the filth evident in the water that struck the floor and rolled down the drain.

Too caught up in her research. In the tedious makings of her personal agenda—to have revenge, to find a cure for her traumatized mind! She hadn’t seen what they all observed:

A woman wasting away before their very eyes. Neglecting her basic needs. Indirectly suicidal in a sense.

She didn’t bathe, she didn’t eat, she slept only when she could no longer stand. An existence that had slipped into psyche and abandoned the physical.

It’s the way it had been for so long—so very long now...but—

She froze as a thought struck her—a sudden realization.

No one had ever succeeded in their attempts to rehabilitate her. To get her to eat, or sleep—except _him._

Folding her hands and bringing them to her chest, in an attempt to steady herself, she shook at the recognition that The Drifter had been the one feeding her for nearly three years. She ate only with him, and slept easily after departing. A terrifying notion. A strange psychological bafflement.

_Why is this so?_

No, she would not look into it too deeply.

Back to the matter at hand, she brought more soap to scrub at her legs, but halted when an embarrassing matter came to her attention—

_How long has it been since I shaved?!_

In the grand scheme of things, it really didn’t matter. Eris had been determined to never let any living being look upon her—but there was something about hair that disgusted her so. Perhaps it was due to the hair follicles ability to trap bacteria and produce terrible aromas...maybe it was because she hated how it felt. But regardless of the reason, she felt all the dirtier for it.

On her legs, beneath her arms—No! It had to go!

She rose on shaking legs, and stumbled half hunched to where she had discarded her clothes and her bag beside the entryway. Flipping a strap beside the pouch, she drew her blade and stumbled as carefully as she could back to the shower.  
  
Her knife would have to do. It was sharp enough to fulfill its purpose, and she wasted no time in ridding herself of the offensive fiber upon her being.

Surely, she felt all the better for it.

Several minutes more of making sure that no spot had been missed, and Eris was satisfied. Shutting off the water, wringing the damp from her hair, and wrapping a towel about her form for modesty, she had dragged her still fatigued form towards the entrance—only to halt when she realized that her clothes were missing.

_Oh...oh no...No! No!_

They were gone. So was her bag!

It wasn’t a mystery—there was only two other beings onboard, and she was certain that only one of them had the audacity to swoop in and snatch away her clothing when she was in the shower. All her garments—

She blanched.

Her undergarments! He had taken those too! Oh, she had never been so embarrassed in her entire life!

He was a dead man walking.

_That bastard! I need my clothes!_

Trembling hands clutched the towel at her breast, anxiety rising at the notion that she would have to exit the room with not but a towel to cover herself. Why would he do this to her?!  
Mind racing with scenarios, strategies that could potentially lead her to her proper attire without compromising her modesty. But each and every one ended the same: with Eris becoming lost within the bowels of The Derelict—cold and nude. She hadn’t thought the night could be any worse for her, and yet—here she was. What to do?! What to—

And then everything abruptly ended when she spotted a small parcel of clothing folded neatly at the door.

_Did he...did he leave me some of his clothes?_

Stepping forward, kneeling for further inspection— and sure enough, a plain black t-shirt accompanied by army green cargos lay in waiting for her usage. He hadn’t left her without compensation. Still though—what of her cloak and veil? This was the true source of her anxiety, not so much the loss of garb. For without them, she could not hide her shame. With clothes to borrow, she _could_ utilize the towel until her cloak and veil were returned. Yes, it would have to do for now, and so, she quickly dressed—realizing that though The Drifter was smaller in stature for a man, he still had a broader build than she, and with her emaciated frame—the fit was even more relaxed.

Rolling the cuffs of the legs as best she could to keep from tripping, she pulled the straps upon the waistband as tightly as she could, before resorting to an old trick: rolling the band itself three times so it sat upon her hips. Acceptable.

Then, with towel draped upon her head, she took a breath—counting down on twitching fingers:

_5, 4, 3, 2, 1—_

She stepped out the door and into the walkway. Cold air striking her, chasing away the heat from the steam that leaked out behind her. Red met her green, and she startled at the sight of Chim-Ung hovering before the door. The Ghost chirped in greeting, and Eris quickly ducked her head; pulling the towel a little lower.

_Has he been waiting for me?_

Glancing as best she could from beneath the linen, she spied his little eye trying to catch hers again, an air of confusion within its posturing. No! She didn’t want the little light to see!  
  
“Forgive me, Chim-Ung,” She swallowed, “But I wish not to be seen.”

The briefest of pauses, and the Ghost released a gentle _Trill!_ It’s eye turning away from her in a respectful gesture.

“Thank you.” She offered her gratitude, before continuing, “So, the Rat-Man took my clothes, I presume?”

She was able to catch the nod from the Ghost, along with his _Chirp!_ And with a light sweeping gesture, she determined that Chim-Ung was motioning for her to follow him. The Ghost creeping further to the left, as its eye remained locked upon her; holding her attention for so as to grant her proper guidance.

“Ah, so you're my guide back?” She tried to form a smile, but her paranoia about the position of the towel kept her good humor tightly leashed.

True, she was relaxed in the presence of the Ghost— Chim-Ung was always a welcome sight, but the sheer aberration of the events this night were still seeping into the cracks within Eris; threatening to expand and shatter her. With shambling steps, she followed after her little guide. Slow-going and honestly, a bit hindered, Eris navigated as best she could within the parameters the material upon her head afforded her.

Thankfully, Chim-Ung set his pace in a courteous fashion, keeping close enough that she could follow his direction without having to compromise her makeshift cover. Kind and considerate, she felt a lull falling upon her at the nature of The Drifter’s Ghost, and her gratitude was stronger than before. If only she could do something for the Ghost. A favor...a gesture of how much she appreciated his amiable manner.

 _Perhaps a gift?_  
  
What would she gift a Ghost? And would his Chosen have anything to say about it? She nearly scoffed out loud—who cared what the Drifter thought.

Down corridors, across catwalks and stairwells, Chim-Ung led her on a winding path back towards the living area, and as the entry way loomed ever closer, Eris felt the rush of anxiety anew. Hands closing into fists to still her nerves as she stepped through the archway—slow, dragging feet meeting the rug, and she nearly tripped as one of the rolled cuffs of her pants slipped down to her ankle. A small groan in her throat, she grabbed the fabric of the thighs a bit aggressively and hoisted them up; trying not to fall and break her neck. That’s the last thing she needed.

The Drifter wasn’t there. She couldn’t hear him, nor see him when she peered out from beneath the towel. But she did spy her pouch—the bag that kept her eternal tormentor concealed—hanging over the back of her assigned seat. But she did not spy her clothes.

_Dammit._

She had at least hoped her cloak would be there.

A light _Chirp!_ drew her attention back to the Ghost, and with his mission now fulfilled, Chim-Ung left her side; floating back to his sanctuary upon the sofa.

Noises from the kitchen area alerted her to The Drifter’s presence, and she shuffled forward, taking her customary seat at the table to await his appearance. She could hear the _Clink!_ of ceramic on metal, and she wondered if perhaps he was making himself some coffee.

_How late is it?_

Guilt flooding her once more, and the idea that she was being terribly inconvenient began to gnaw away at her mind.

 _I won’t stay long._  
  
No, she would offer him explanation, and remove herself as quickly as possible. She wouldn’t monopolize his time, especially so abruptly and in the middle of the night.

_Why did I come here in the first place?_

An excellent question. Why had she fled to The Drifter? Surely, her dreams would mean nothing to him, and in all fairness, was not something that concerned him in the least. This is why she had never spoken to Ikora or Asher of such things. Already had they endured her traumatic outbursts, and listened to her mad ramblings of shadows, voices and things that went _bump-in-the-night._

But there were other things...dreams, nightmares...memories...

_No...they must never know!_

There were some things she could never tell them. Things she never wanted them to know. For if they did—oh, how they would despise her.

Looks of pity. Looks of disgust. Judgement—jaded positions about her very existence. She could not bear the thought of her two closest and cherished friends seeing her with new eyes. It would destroy that which still stood inside of her. But The Drifter...

_Does he not factor into anything? Do I not long for his respect the way I do for Ikora’s and Asher’s?_

_Wait..._  
  
And with that, Eris had an epiphany—

That wasn’t it at all, no...she did not feel he was insignificant to her life, nor did she feel he was merely a buffer she could unleash her agony upon.

_He is...he is..._

What? The truth—

She valued his opinion, his thoughts and his help more highly than any other person’s. For he, unlike all the others, truly understood.

Asher had indeed suffered a similar loss. The loss of comrades, the loss of honor—losing one’s dignity and self-identity. He knew, he understood those things. She could speak to him so simply and it would not fall upon deaf ears... but with The Drifter...

It went beyond understanding. It went far deeper.

_With him..._

Oh, what words could even describe what it was that drew her? _Meretricious_. She had called him that once, it had been fitting at the time, but now...she felt the word was not correctly used. It wasn’t his demeanor that drew her in like it did the more feeble minded of the City. Those Guardians who engaged in his little illegal venture—his Gambit. So naïve. So greedy and corrupt. They saw the meretricious façade—the one she had been greatly mistaken about.

That wasn’t the truth. It wasn’t reality.

What drew _her_...was the fact that with him—

_I am just...me._

She was simply Eris Morn.

The _Clack!_ of something being laid to rest upon a countertop drew Eris back into the present. Glancing up from beneath her makeshift veil, she noticed that something was...different about the place. A second passed as her eyes moved over everything, and surprise grew when she noticed the living area was much cleaner than usual. Clearly, he had found the time to tidy up a bit, and through the ache of her own mental anguish, she found a clear enough moment to be a bit impressed. But more than likely, he had left it all for Chim-Ung to execute. Yes, that sounded much more accurate.

Footsteps approaching from the kitchen, and Eris quickly adjusted the towel upon her head to ensure she was not in jeopardy of being exposed. Her heart having skipped a beat for a moment in nervous anticipation, she breathed in deeply through her nose to combat the minute rise in anxiety. Head tilted down, gazing upon the hands folded in her lap, she caught sight of dark brown fabric in her peripherals, and a pair of bare tattooed feet coming to stand beside her chair. She didn’t move, didn’t look up for fear that her barrier would slip away, and he would see the real her. She could not allow _anyone_ to see her.

A pause.

“Ohh-kay...” He muttered with a suspicious tone, and Eris knew he was commenting upon the towel.

She would be lying if she said she wasn’t the least bit embarrassed about it. But she could save face—who gave a damn what it looked like draped over her head?

“Where’s my cloak?” She was direct, for the cloak was the most important thing she needed in this moment.

“In the wash with the rest of your clothes.” His answer was just as blunt.

She blinked, “You are washing my clothes?”

“Yeah,” He scoffed, “They were filthy, or didn’t ya notice?”  
  
Eris could feel her face reddening. He was sounding like Ikora.

“I need my cloak.” She was firm, but of course, that sort of tone wouldn’t get very far with him. She still questioned why she even wasted her time.

“Too bad, sistah. Ya gonna have to wait.”

A _Clink!_ as he sat something upon the table, and Eris chanced a glance; finding a mug resting before her with rising steam.

“There’s a little bourbon in that.” He indicated lazily, “I gotta feelin’ ya need it, trust?”

He turned away, and she could hear him sipping at a drink of his own as he made his way to his own seat. She sat a little straighter—all the better to stare down into the dark liquid he had laid before her.

_Coffee?_

She sniffed—No, it didn’t smell like coffee. What had he made?

“What is this?” She cleared the frog from her throat, nose scrunching.

“A drink.” He plopped onto his chair, sitting his own drink upon the table, with that eternal smirk of his directed right at her.

_No. Not tonight._

She would not be goaded into any bickering, she was already standing on the precipice of a complete collapse. She needed calm. She needed consideration. So, Eris ignored him, taking the mug in hand with twitchy fingers, bringing it to her lips.

_It’s chocolate._

The creamiest, sweetest chocolate she had ever tasted. There’s honey in it as well, and the slight sensation of charred vanilla—the bourbon. There’s a leap in her chest as the burn of the drink makes its way down her throat, and she feels something in that moment. Clarity...something oddly comforting and familiar. Like coming home after being away for too long. It was good. She liked it, and she was grateful to him.

“This is divine,” She swallowed another sip, “Thank you.”  
  
“Hm.” He sighed, exhaustion clearly lacing his tone, “It was my specialty in the Guard.”  
  
She clutched the mug in both hands, letting the heat seep into her fingers and palms as she glanced up at his words; a question upon her lips. Distraction. Change of pace. Yes, small talk was what she needed. But when she caught sight of the man who sat before her, her inquiry died in her throat. Like she, he was without his armor, without his layers of garb, and Eris felt regret falling upon her.

_I really have pulled him from his sleep._

Loose fitting pants of linen, a white shirt beneath a cargo jacket, and that slouched knitted cap she had spotted him wearing in the cold was still there. He looked as though he had just rolled out of bed—and in fact, he _had._

All her fault. How rude of her!

Reaching up, he rubbed at his eyes, releasing a long sigh as he fixed her with a lazy stare. Awful...she felt so awful...and the casual conversation she had originally intended to hide behind completely faded from existence.

She owed him an apology.  
  
“I do apologize for disturbing you this evening.” She hoped her sincerity and shame was clear, “Do forgive me, please.”

A second passed. Then another, and she watched curiously as he leaned back in his chair, and brought one barefoot to rest upon the table to counterbalance. The Drifter’s head tilted, watching her with an expression drenched in stagnation.

“Ya didn’t come all this way just to use my shower, honey,” He raised a brow, “What’s up?”

Blunt. She knew he was going to ask for an explanation at some point, and though Eris had fully intended to divulge the events of the night...now, as she sat before him...she began to second guess herself.

“Just...bad dreams.” It was a mumble, and The Drifter’s dull stare narrowed.

“Um...wanna be a bit more vague?”

His irony wasn’t lost on her, and she felt a shiver of frustration travel from her head into her shoulders.

“I...became disorientated,” She offered, “I panicked a little. You just happened to be the first contact on my data pad.”

Such a lie, but if it spared her an iota of shame, she would indulge the sin.

_Why not simply tell him?_

Because...because then...she would have to relive it all.

“Wanna talk ‘bout it?”

Though his voice sounded stale when the question was broached, Eris could sense that he was genuinely opening himself to her. The invitation was made—it was up to her to accept it or not. Isn’t that why she had come? Hadn’t she wanted a lending ear? Another tremor—why wouldn’t they cease?! Hands attempting to place her mug upon the table without spilling the drink, but it was difficult; quite so. It was made all the worse when she noticed his eyes shift towards her hands, taking in the gesture with clarity. It had been subtle, but Eris knew that he was analyzing her every move.

_Damn him._

Even with a mind clouded in idleness, the man had strength enough to remain aware of his surroundings.

_He’s gifted. He’s a fighter._

That was the tell-tale sign of a true survivor, of a warrior. Senses honed and disciplined. Eris could recognize this, for she had spent three lifetimes carving herself into a being of pure control. But this raggedy-man had centuries on her in age, and she could only imagine how much greater his regulation was than her own. The drawback of it all—it made him difficult to fool, and sometimes...Oh—how she felt like a specimen beneath a microscope when he watched her.

He knew she was lying, twisting the truth and relying on omission. She could see it in his unamused gaze, in the twitch of his mouth. But surely, he had every right to be suspicious and annoyed with her.

_I’m wasting his time. What should I say?_

A minute had passed without her gifting him with a response, and she tried to push through the fog of her brain for a suitable answer that would spare them both unpleasantries.

However—

A clucking of his tongue, and he sat upright; the chair’s front legs coming down with a dull _Thunk!_

“Whatever, sweet-pea. Ain’t no one pointin’ a heater at your head.” He cleared his throat, and began fishing about in the pocket of his jacket.  
  
Stunned. Eris was stunned. He wasn’t pressing the issue—he wasn’t trying to goad her into a dispute that would end with her telling him what he wanted to know. He was letting it go. Letting her have the control. She lifted her head a little higher, peering out from beneath the towel with as much caution as she could, and watched him produce two separate decks of cards from his jacket. Sliding them from their boxes, and shuffling; creating a stack of one-hundred-four.

“I think I know what game ya need tonight, darlin’.”

_What? What is he--_

She raised a brow, eyes widening, “We’re playing? Now?”

A grin upon his face as he continued to manipulate the cards with a skill that never ceased to astound her.

“Might as well.” He shrugged.

This late? It wasn’t even the correct day for it. Their weekly meeting was still two days away.

“Why do we need two decks?” Her voice was terribly hoarse, and despite clearing her throat, the sensation of something caught within lingered.

He smirked, “Ya ever play the Memory Game?”

Eris pondered a moment. Once again, she had the distinct impression that she knew the game under a different handle.

“I don’t know.” She shook her head. Honestly.  
  
Her words came out a whisper, and she cleared her throat once more. Lowering her head to assure the towel didn’t slip off, as she listened to the fluttering of the card stock he continued to shuffle. Eyes focused on her ungloved hands, and the uncovered wrists upon her lap.  
  
So pale, so sickly. Oh, how embarrassed she was! She began to wring her fingers, trying to soothe herself; seeking that self comfort, when suddenly- everything fell silent. No shuffling, no dealing, just...nothing. She attempted another glance from beneath the cloth, trying to see why he had stopped without revealing...too much of herself; but it was a precarious position to be in. He was staring at her. A most unamused expression upon his face, and she could see fatigue coating every inch of him.

_What is the matter?_

_Is it not obvious?  
  
_Her mind argued with itself, reminding her of how this situation began. _She_ had been the one to rip him from his bed and disturb whatever sleep he had managed to procure. Truly, he must be annoyed with her, and she had no right to be questioning his mood. She was the guilty party.

_I’ve become such a burden...no wonder Asher did not answer me._

Perhaps she should apologize, thank The Drifter and leave. Allow him to return to bed for the rest she was certain he rarely had the luxury of. Yes, she owed him an apology and a token of gratitude. But as the words formed upon her lips— He released an exasperated sigh,

“Just take the damn towel off, Moondust. Seriously.”

He sounded weary, and clearly her neurotic behavior was pushing his proverbial buttons. But his request...she could not acquiesce to it.

“I must respectfully decline.” She informed him, slouching a little lower in her seat.

That elicited a groan from him as he leaned slightly back in his chair. Running his hand down his face, he fixed her with an irritated gaze.

“The hell are ya so afraid of?” He allowed his hand to fall limp and smack down upon the table, “There’s no one here to see ya! Just me and Dumb—”

He caught himself, leaving the insult incomplete as she flashed him an aggravated stare from beneath the edges of the towel; a reminder that she would not tolerate his nickname for Chim-Ung.

He sighed dramatically, placing his hand over his heart, “I’m sorry—Just me and the _Lil’ Fucker_.”

_There we are. Of course._

She sighed her own exasperation, signifying how unamused she was with his sarcasm, and a _Squawk!_ from the sofa across the room clearly expressed Chim-Ung’s displeasure at the man’s blatant disrespect.

“Oh, cram it, Snowgoose!” The Drifter called out, and Eris felt her anxiety resurging as the threat of bickering was hanging in the air.

_Not tonight! Not now! SHUT-UP!_

“STOP! Just...” She held up her hands, panting as she fought to reduce her volume, “...stop. Not tonight, please...”

Her voice trailed off, all the fight letting out of her, as The Drifter looked on. Eris caught sight of the fatigue falling upon his countenance once again, while she sank into her own. It was late, both their bodies clearly begging for rest, but Eris’ mind was a storm of torment. She was trying her best to find distraction, she had hoped The Drifter would have provided it, but now...she found herself without her armor, without her proverbial cloak of invisibility. She sat before him with only a towel to hide behind, and it created more anxiety.

He was scrutinizing her, and Eris’ hands began to shake; interlinking her fingers together to still the unease, and for the first time...she found she couldn’t face him. This ache of utter humiliation. She had hoped no one would ever see—she had fought so hard to keep others from knowing what she had become.

True, Ikora had looked upon her when she lay in her hospital bed. Asher had seen as well, but it had been out of Eris’ control. She had screamed, demanded their secrecy.

_Tell no one!_

They had looked at her with such...pity! Fear even! It had felt like a betrayal. And now The Drifter—Germaine...

_I don’t want him to see me!_

Shuddering breath. Silence falling between them, only broken by the natural creaks and hums of the ship around them, the energy of its AI pulsating through it; like blood inside veins. It was matching the beat of her own heart, palpitating in her ears.

_Coming here was a mistake._

She should request her clothes and leave.

And so, she took a breath to announce her apology and egress, but halted when a sigh of discontentment from the man broke through the quiet. She glanced up to see him stand, his motions swift and implicit, as he slipped his jacket off, revealing a white tank top underneath that exposed his arms and shoulders. This was quickly followed by the removal of the cap upon his head, his hair made all the more disheveled as he ruffled it free from his scalp.

_What is he doing?!_

Her heart beat louder as he plopped back into his seat, fixing her with the most condescending expression. A declaration, a challenge. An announcement of his own that here he was—sitting before her without armor, without the layers to hide behind. Open, vulnerable, and real. She sat rigid, the shock still clutching her tightly as she looked upon him. Decorated in ink that nearly encompassed every inch of his skin, and marred with scars left unattended by his Ghost. There was a strength in his arms and shoulders she hadn’t expected. She had thought perhaps, like her, he had grown soft and weak over the years of neglect, but no—he still possessed the brawn of a fighter.

She felt ashamed for looking, but she couldn’t turn away. No...because...because the illustrations on him...they weren’t simply tattoos. Her eyes had caught something—

_Is that—?_

It was no surprise there would be snakes curled and coiled about his form, even that insignia he utilized for his illegal fight-club was stamped upon his neck, but joining them were many lines and geometric shapes, splatters of calligraphy, and strange forms similar to totems. Much of it was alien in appearance, and all of it archaic...but what _truly_ caught her eye, what had left her frozen in place, were the series of symbols running along his collarbones.

Her blood ran cold.

_I know those symbols..._

In fact, she could read them perfectly—

_That is Hive magic!!_

Yes, it was a binding spell! Why—in the name of all that was holy in this system—would he have a Hive binding spell tattooed upon his body?!

_What has he done?! Why?!_

Paranoia and suspicion staked their claim upon her. Had she been led into something? Was he a part of something deeper than she originally thought? No...NO! He was marked—the bindings on the collars...only Wizards and Witches wore those in the Hive. They served as binders; keeping their power strong and untainted. It gave them strength.

A shiver ran through her. How had The Drifter come to possess them? It was ludicrous! She narrowed her eyes,

**_“Aspiration of the traveling.”_ **

That’s how it read. But what did it mean?!

She couldn’t blink. Fury rising with the paranoia until she lost all control—

“Why do you have a binding spell upon you?” Her words were firm, a deep rumble of disgust rising from her chest.

He furrowed his brows in return, “Huh? What’re ya talkin’ ‘bout?”

She raised an accusatory finger and pointed, “ _That._ ” She snapped, “You have Hive magic upon your skin. WHY?”

She would have none of his riddles or his word play. None of his circular talk and sarcasm. Her tone made this clear—straight and honest answers were all she would accept.

Clearly, he got the message.

“Yeah, it’s Hive—but it ain’t a bindin’ spell, hun.”

Did he think her stupid?!

“I know what that is!” She smacked her hand upon the table, “That is a binding spell of the I’lim! Only Wizards carry that upon their skin! So _WHY_ do you have it?!”

Inexplicable anger was rising. She was tired, so very tired of being afraid all the time—of not knowing who to trust. Now...now it seemed this man she had shared so much with was not what she had believed him to be.

_Alone...alone..._

She startled when a small smile spread upon his lips.

“You’re right. That’s true.” He nodded, “But you’re readin’ it wrong, darlin’.”

She blinked, more perplexed than before. Her knowledge of the Hive language was fluent, and she _knew_ what she was reading. If he thought her that naïve, he was in for a rude awakening.

“Aspiration Of The Traveling.” She spoke pointedly.

“Very good.” His smile grew, “But you’re readin’ it literally.”

She froze.

“I don’t fathom...”

“Ya don’t _understand_ , right?” He cocked a brow, and Eris grew more confused at his words.

Then she remembered—In the past, _“Fathom”_ had been a word he hadn’t known, and had become quite upset when she had used it against him. Apparently, he had researched its definition at some point.

“Yes,” She hissed, “I don’t _understand_ your question. Explain.”

His smile grew, but didn’t reach his eyes, “It’s my name.”

And then everything stopped. A moment in time stilled at the reveal of something terrifyingly profound.

_His name?_

Eris wracked her thoughts, trying to find the logic in his words, for she could not see how it would translate to any name she had heard him addressed by. Did he have yet another name? Perhaps...something the Hive knew him by? A sickening feeling, a sinking in her stomach—a memory trying to claw to the forefront of her mind...

_“Ma’lathu...come on out...”_

_No! Not now!  
  
_She shivered, shaking the nausea and the dread from her. Those memories...she would not cave to them! No, there was something all the more crucial at hand. Still peering from beneath her towel, Eris’ eyes moved over The Drifter’s features, searching for the truth—the answer to a question she could not find the correct words for.

Instead, all she could draw from her lips was, “What?”

A sigh from the man, not one of exasperation, but one of fatigue, and he brought his finger up to point at the calligraphy at his collarbone; tapping it lightly.

“On a world hidden away from the light,” He softened his voice, “There is a ziggurat that sits upon a plane of obsidian.”

Ziggurat...she thought she knew what he meant...if so, then—

“Inside this ziggurat, at the very heart of it, is a circle in which an altar stands.”

That place...she knew what it was. She swallowed down the anxiety rising at his words.

“There were only seven of us that survived.” His eyes shifted, falling dark for a split second before fading back into their natural blue.

Eris had seen. She caught the change, and froze as she waited for the rest of his secret to be revealed. She knew what he spoke of...she thought she knew...  
  
_The Dredgens._

“There was a ritual...a test.” He licked his lips, eyes breaking away from hers as he looked down upon the table; becoming lost in memory.  
  
“We knelt before this altar in a circle...and waited.”

A pause. A second’s breath. Eris knew what he saw in his mind’s eye, for she had seen those altars as well...deep within a pit.

“Thousands of voices whispering in our heads—telling us secrets.”

She could see the hand at his chest beginning to tremble, a painful memory taking hold.  
  
“The voices...they told us things about ourselves. It looked into us...deep into our hearts and our souls...and told us the truth.”

A scoff, and he began to chuckle—not in humor, but in irony, and Eris felt a tightness in her chest take hold at the sound of it.

_So weak...so tired._

“The Darkness laughed at me.” He shook his head, as he raised his gaze to try and meet her own once more, “It actually laughed at me...”

He chuckled harder, but there was a weariness and a surrender in his expression. Clearly, this had been something that had weighed down upon him for a very long time...and now, he was relieving himself of it. No longer would he carry it alone.

Eris sat a little taller.

_No, I’m here now._

Another sigh, bracing for the end: “And then it gave me a new name.”

Breath catching in her throat. Fear and awe both fighting to reign over her—this truth, this secret—a secret about the Darkness itself and its machinations.

_I see! I understand!_

Then The Drifter cleared his throat and proclaimed for her ears only: “Dredgen Kam’hithuan.”

She knew the translation. Not only its literal meaning, but its _true_ signification. He was right, she hadn’t read it properly.

Dredgen Kam’hithuan translated as: “Eternal Abyss For The Aspiration Of The Traveling.”

But what it actually meant—what it truly meant was:

“The Man Who Walks In Hope.” The Drifter finished the thought for her. Speaking the name out loud as he dragged his finger along the script; demonstrating how to read it.

“I was the Dredgen of Hope.” One last declaration, and he spoke no more.

She sat in astonishment. Her heart beating rapidly as she absorbed everything he had said. In this moment, in this explanation, he had revealed so much of himself. Once again, a thought came to Eris, another reminder that even after all this time, she was still being terribly unfair to him.

If the Darkness looked inside his very being, and found hope overflowing...

Surely, he was so much stronger and braver than anyone realized. Perhaps...perhaps she could absorb some of it for herself. To be brave and strong...to have hope that her fears would not consume her, nor would they come to pass.

And in this moment, as she pondered over everything he had said...she felt more stable than she had ever felt before. In fact—

A deep breath, a swallowing of her anxiety. Raising a hand to her head, grasping the towel between shaking fingers—

If he could lay bare his sins...

A gentle pull—

So could she.

The fabric fell away, the slight sensation of weight lifting from atop her head, and Eris Morn allowed her shield to slip to the floor. She sat before him...he sat before her, and when their eyes met, there was an understanding so compelling that it threatened to drive her back. There was no judgment, there was no pity. No, they watched each other with a compassion that Eris was convinced no being in this universe could ever know nor understand. They might as well have stood before each other nude, for they had revealed so much in an instant; there was very little left to hide.

A woman damaged. A man tainted. But neither was truly broken. The glue that held them both together, was a simple word of _Hope._

The ends of her hair tickled the tip of her chin, and though she felt the urge to brush it back behind her ears, she would not move. For to do so would disrupt the courage she was clinging so tightly to. She watched him carefully, waiting for his eyes to look her over...to take her all in. The three eyes that wept paracausal ink, the chitin that had begun to protrude from beneath her hair; deforming her skull. The sallowness of her skin, her sunken features...her overall emaciated form. She waited...and waited...

But then—

“Alright, The Memory-Game!” He looked away as he began to swiftly lay the cards out, in rows upon the table.

Eris blinked, stunned. Unsure. He was dismissing her? Had he no questions?

In no time, he had organized six rows of face-down cards.

“Um...” He leaned back in his seat, pursing his lips as he thought, “Maybe ya know it as Pairs? Shinkei-suijaku?”  
  
She was still somewhat in shock, and could only shake her head.

“Hmmm...” He drummed his fingers upon the wood, nose scrunching in that little habit he used to express contemplation, “How ‘bout Concentration?”

A recognition in her mind, bringing her back into the moment.  
  
“Yes.” She nodded, “I do know Concentration.”  
  
“Alright, alright!” He bounced in his seat, leaning forward, “Same game! Ya go first!”

His trademark grin was back, his demeanor devoid of any indication towards the harsh conversation they had engaged in. No, The Drifter was back in all his glory, and quite honestly, Eris was grateful.

_He has such a gift._

She envied him. He had transformed nonchalance into an art form. No matter. She would not be the one to upset the balance. And so, she reached out and flipped a card:

3RD ROW - SIX OF HEARTS.

And another:  
  
1ST ROW – FOUR OF SPADES.

No match. She turned them face down.

The Drifter took his turn:

5TH ROW - QUEEN OF SPADES. 2ND ROW – NINE OF CLUBS.

No match. He flipped them back.

As he did, Eris caught sight once more of the symbols upon his knuckles. They had been a source of curiosity for quite some time, and now that he had revealed so much more of himself...including a Hive brand upon his flesh...she wondered if maybe he might tell her about them as well.

“Those marks on your hands,” Her voice hoarse, as she flipped a card: 2ND ROW – KING OF CLUBS), “What are their origins?”

6TH ROW – TWO OF HEARTS.

No match.

He cocked a brow, raising one of his hands up to inspect what she had indicated.

“These?” He held his knuckles out towards her, “I’m surprised ya don’t know what they are, Moondust.”

He grinned and flipped his own cards: 5TH ROW – JACK OF DIAMONDS. 2ND ROW – QUEEN OF SPADES.

No match.

Eris nearly scoffed. She wasn’t all-knowing. What did he take her for?

She quickly took advantage of his 2nd Row reveal, and turned over his QUEEN OF SPADES to match the one at the 5thRow. The first match of the game went to her.

“I’m not omniscient.” She mumbled, beginning a pile of cards beside her, “Just tell me what they are or don’t.”

She shrugged. Honestly, he needn’t explain himself. She was too tired to engage anyways.

The Drifter chuckled and leaned forward with his hand outstretched, causing Eris to flinch back slightly. His hand right before her face now.

“Give ‘em a looksee!” He invited, and Eris blinked, trying to get them into focus.

Black ink swirled in a lovely calligraphy, surrounded by tiny dots that touched each corner of the flat region between the knuckles of his hand and fingers. It was sharp, and yet wispy all the same, and the longer she stared...the more she realized she had seen these symbols before.

_Wait..._

“Is that...” Her eyes narrowed, “Are those Techeun wards?”

“Ya got it!” He chuckled, then pulled his hand away to continue his game:

1ST ROW – TWO OF HEARTS. 6TH ROW – TWO OF HEARTS.  
  
He claimed a match, now even with her, but Eris didn’t notice; she was still processing what she had just seen. Techeun Wards? He had Awoken magic tattooed upon him?

First Hive, now Awoken, what else could he possibly—

She cut off her own thought, as her eyes began to move over his exposed skin. Eyes widening in realization.

_Oh no...he can’t be serious?_

With the exception of the snakes—so she assumed—every image upon his body was a mark; a symbol. They weren’t tattoos at all! In fact, if she was reading them accurately...

“You marked your entire body with wards and charms?” Shock and awe evident in her tone, and she couldn’t help that her jaw hung open just a little.

She had never seen anything like it! The man was a walking encyclopedia of ancient magic! Both earthborn and alien! Marks of protection, seals, binders, spells—he had everything! Even Vex codes!

_Oh...if Asher or Osiris could see that..._

It was a terrifying thought.

“Yup!” His grin so big that the gap in his two-front teeth beamed prominently, “Ya should see the rest of me...”

There was a tease in his tone, and Eris sneered. She’d pass on that.

“Why woul—” She stopped herself, it would be a stupid question if she finished, for she already knew the answer as to why he would do such a thing.

Instead, she blurted out: “And here I thought _I_ was paranoid...”

A gasp, and The Drifter snapped back in his seat; a dramatic expression of offense upon his face.  
  
“Excuse me...” he began, bringing his hand to his heart while looking down his nose at her, “But _I_ am the most paranoid individual in this entire universe!”

He spoke with such pride. As though it were a great feat worthy of honor and praise.

_Well...perhaps it is. How long has he survived?_

Her mind made a most excellent point. She did not know how old he was...but she understood enough to realize he had lived a very, _very_ long time. Maybe he should get a medal for it.

“Hmph.” She gave a minute shrug and reached for a card: 4TH ROW – NINE OF DIAMONDS. 6TH ROW – THREE OF CLUBS.

She returned them.

“What’s with the _Hmph_?” He narrowed his eyes at her, flipping his cards:

3RD ROW – FOUR OF SPADES. 1ST ROW – FOUR OF SPADES. Another match he added to his pile.

Confused at his question, Eris shook her head, “What do you mean?”

“That little— _Hmph!_ ” He put his nose in the air, a condescending look upon his face, as he mimicked her higher toned voice.

_Oh dear Lord..._

And so it began again.

“Do not twist my words around to fulfill your need to validate your insecurities, Rat.” She nearly groaned, “We’ve been over this so many times now.”

“I didn’t twist your words.” He spoke matter-of-factly, “Ya didn’t say any. Ya let out a— _Hmph!_ ” He emphasized again, much more dramatically this time. “That’s a _sound_. Not a _word_.”  
  
As if she didn’t know. Eris couldn’t help it, she brought a hand to her face and closed her eyes; taking a deep breath. Was he serious? Was he really, truly serious? He was starting an argument over a meaningless discord?

“It meant nothing.” She tried to be patient, “It was merely a stridency.”

She froze when she realized her mistake. She could slap herself for being so careless—she had said a word he probably didn’t know, and now a new quarrel would begin.

However—  
  
“Stridency!” He declared, “S-T-R-I-D-E-N-C-Y. Stridency!”

Her eyes shot open, expression frozen in shock as he stared back at her with a most smug smile.

“It means _Noise._ ” He explained, tapping his finger upon the table, “Didn’t think Drifter knew that one, did ya?”

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t impressed. Still, it didn’t change the frustration she felt about the matter.

“Rat,” She began, bringing her elbows to rest upon the wood, “What the _hell_ are you talking about?”

There must have been something about her tone or expression that was quite amusing, for her burst into laughter, falling back into his chair.

“Ya judgin’ me?” He spoke around his chuckles, “Ya think I’m a nutcase ‘cause I hoard junk and practice superstition? Ya think I’m a savage cause I no-speak-big-mouth-words and have more tattoos than I do teeth?”

Eris could break his nose. She really could.

“Ya think I’m a lunatic?”

He was goading her, trying to get her to fight him. Why the hell did he get off on riling her up with every visit?

Fine.

“Yes,” She deadpanned, “I do think you’re a lunatic.”  
  
“Aww!” He feigned upset, “I knew it! It’s cause’a my ink, ain’t it?!”

_What the hell is he playing at?_

“Oh please! Even _I_ have a tattoo.” She scoffed, and instantly blanched when the words passed her lips.

_Oh no...why did I just tell him that?!_

Shocked at her own confession, she hoped he hadn’t heard her. But alas...

Wide eyes upon her, a slow smile spreading upon his lips, and then—

“Really?!” His whole mood instantly lifted into something mischievous.

Astonishing. He had the attention of a goldfish.

“Ya know what?” He announced, “I believe it! What’s it of?!”

Eris’ blood ran cold, she had to find a way to divert his attention elsewhere. She hadn’t meant to say _it_ out loud, she was daft from lack of sleep and nerves that were on edge; much like a drunk who loses all inhibitions. But Eris still had enough awareness and self-control to rectify her mistake.

She shook her head, “It’s irrelevant. I was just thinking out loud.”

_How weak an argument._

Of course he wouldn’t take the hint.

"Uh-uh! No, Moondust!” He tsked her.

_Sure enough..._

“Ya ain’t gonna stir my interest and not satisfy it! Spill!”

She wasn’t sure how to get out of this. Her frustration was growing by the second, made all the worse by the knowledge that The Drifter would most likely hound until she gave in.

“Forget it, Rat. It’s not important.”

“’Course it ain’t!” He scoffed, “But that don’t mean it ain’t interestin’! Share!”

She ran her hand along her face. She had made a mistake—losing her composure and ability to hold her tongue.

“I do not wish to elaborate,” There was a groan in her voice, “Please, forget I said anything.”

He stared at her, a curious look frosting the expression of impudence he wore.

“What’s it of, Moondust?” There was a tease in his tone; a grin spreading along his lips.

She narrowed her gaze, “None of your concern.”

“Is it...” He cocked a brow, “Offensive?”

She wouldn’t dignify him with an answer. She knew _exactly_ what he was going to do. He would try and break her down through incessant nagging through a proverbial game of twenty-questions. Thence, by process of elimination and emotional manipulation, reveal the information he sought from her. Eris did not know what sort of gullible ignoramuses he was used to dealing with, but she most certainly wasn’t one of them.

BUT—

He gasped, eyes wide, “Holy shit! It is, ain’t it?!”

She should have known better. Of course he would take her silence for confirmation...OR, he was trying to manipulate her into _thinking_ that he was taking it for confirmation. Heaven’s mercy! It was exhausting trying to decipher him! She wouldn’t fall for it. No, she was trying so hard not to fall for it.

“Can we please just drop this subject?” The weariness in her voice was plain enough, and she reached out to take her mug in hand once more; bringing it to her lips. Trying to hide inside the drink.

It was still warm and she let the heat wash over; soothing her throat as she sipped. She could see him in her peripherals, watching her with a smirk, and Eris knew—she _knew_ he wasn’t going to relinquish his interrogation.

“Hmm...” His hum drew her eyes up, and she could see that he was pondering something.

“Knowin’ you...” He cocked a brow, folding his arms across his chest, “I’m gonna say...ya got a dragon.”

She paused, realization sinking in. He was trying to guess at the subject of her tattoo.

_He takes me for a dragon woman?_

She couldn’t help the cringing expression, “No.”

Beautiful creatures to be sure, but truly cliché.

“Alright, alright,” He conceded, “Ya got aaaaaa— Tiger!”

_Another cliché?_

What did he take her for? Surely she was much more original than that.

“No.”

Her irritation was clearly fueling his amusement.

“Ok! Ok! A skull surrounded by roses!”

Now he was just being insolent. She glared in silence.

“A sparrow with some hokey script like— _Wanderlust_?”

Eris would not give in to his strategy. He was trying to annoy her to the point where she would reveal what was inked upon her.

“Oh! Wait, wait, wait!” He leaned forward, smacking his hands upon the table in a grand gesture, “I got it! I know what it is!”

Eris stiffened. She didn’t like how jovial he had suddenly become. A sly grin, a leering expression—

“Ya got a tramp-stamp that says: _DONATIONS!”_

_Oh dear God!_

“You vile cretin!” She snapped, but he simply burst into laughter.

“Oh come on, Moondust!” He howled, “We all adults here!”

“Apparently not!” She gritted her teeth.

Truly, he had the conduct of a freshman.

He carried on, leaning back in his seat before fixing her with a mirthful stare. He had produced a rise out of her; clearly the highlight of the evening. Honestly, it made sense. Having his sleep interrupted and forced to play host to her and the mental instability that came with the package...she could not blame him. Still, she didn’t appreciate the crude immaturity he was unleashing.

_Why am I being so reticent?_

An honest question for her attitude. There was nothing inappropriate about her tattoo or its placement. It was just— a reminder of the Eris Morn who once was.

_Playfulness painted in dark makeup, and combat boots worn beneath skirts in the spring._

That truth, that once long ago...she had found joy in whimsical things. That she had sought the charm of the offbeat.

_It doesn’t harm anyone._

The Drifter sat before her, baring the ugliness of the lives he had led upon his flesh. In return, she had revealed her sin to him, and still, he had not flinched. What difference did a silly tattoo make?

A sigh passed her lips, and she closed her eyes as a decision was made.

“Do you really want to see it, Rat?”

Her gaze returned to his, and she startled a moment as she found his features furrowed in the most curious expression. Almost...suspicious.

“That depends...” He took on a serious tone, “Is it somewhere lewd?”

She blinked, surprised at his sudden regard for propriety. It was unexpected, and frankly, sympathetic. He was letting her know that she need not sacrifice her modesty to satiate his curiosity, and Eris felt such gratitude overwhelm her. So much so, that it was this very statement that decided her with finality.

“No. It’s on my shoulder blade.”

She would share.

His eyes brightened, “Then let’s see it, sistah!”

Now sitting straight, he practically bounced in his seat, and Eris took a deep breath before plunging into further embarrassment.

_I cannot believe I’m doing this..._

Heart rate increasing as she slowly pulled her arm back into her sleeve. A pause, second guessing herself as The Drifter folded his hands upon the table and leaned forward expectantly. His eyes alight, smile barely contained—it made Eris sneer. She was _not_ here to entertain him, yet still, she continued slipping her arm up and through the neckline, causing the shirt to drape over her; similarly to a toga. One more adjustment to preserve her modesty, and she fought back the shame of her emaciated sternum. How gaunt she must look to his eye.

_What does he care?_

She reminded herself of the insignificance of it all, and with a sigh, slowly turned her back towards him; revealing the art upon her shoulder. The tattoo wasn’t small. It occupied the majority of her upper back, and she attempted to flatten it slightly by rolling her shoulder forward. Hands clutching the shirt to her breast, she hunched in on herself as she waited for his assessment. She could hear the wood of the table creaking. He must be leaning forward for closer inspection—and then a bark of laughter:

“A Maneki-Neko?!”

Eris flinched as he laughed even harder.  
  
“Ya got a Maneki-Neko?!”

Actually, she was a bit surprised he knew what it was, but all the same, she was irked that he was laughing about it. This was the very reason she hadn’t wanted to show him.

“Don’t judge.” She warned, which elicited another round of laughter from him.

“I ain’t! When have I ever?!”

He had a very good point, and Eris felt her embarrassment lessen the tiniest bit.

“I’m just...surprised!” He went on, “It ain’t what I was expectin’!”

Sitting in all its glory upon her back, was a Maneki-Neko: The Beckoning Cat. One paw raised while the other held a giant koban coin, a symbolism of good fortune, and Eris silently scoffed when the irony fell upon her. After all this time...she hadn’t realized how ineffective the Cat had been.

“That’s some beautiful line work, darlin’.” The Drifter’s compliment pulled her out of her negative thoughts, “Ya found a damn good artist! Line work is flawless!”  
  
There was sincere admiration in his voice, and it brought back a memory inside of Eris. She remembered—the artist had been a woman named Himiko-4. An Exo at a shop in the Trolley District of the City; an area more popular with the youth of the time. Specifically artists. When Eris had gone to see her, it had been at a time in her life when she had found herself fading into the background. Her first fireteam had begun to drift apart—falling into individual ventures—and Ikora had become more involved with the politics of the Consensus.

Eris had been restless. Frustrated. Lonely. She wanted something for herself, something that would make her happy.

Asher had scoffed when she told him she was getting a tattoo. Said she was being impulsive and regressing into a state of juvenile rebellion. Perhaps he had been correct—but it didn’t change anything. She had gone without him. he had refused to take part in her “immature venture.” So, she went alone.

The Maneki-Neko had been her choice. Something innocent and meaningful, that would grant her luck and peace. Himiko’s hands had been quick and precise, resulting in a tolerable sitting, and though Eris had lay with gritted teeth against the stinging pain, it had passed quickly; leaving behind a work of art. A symbol of a Cat of fortune, sitting against the backdrop of bamboo stalks. It was beautiful. Playful. It had made Eris feel good. But now...now it felt improper to have such a thing of joy upon a damaged form.

“Hmm...” Behind her, The Drifter gave an inquisitive hum, “Is it red or pink?”

She blinked.

What on Earth was he talking about?

“I don’t understand the question.” She glanced over her shoulder, finding a grin upon his lips.

“The Cat,” He clarified, “Is it red or pink?” Ya know the color of the Cat determines what it blesses ya with, right?”

Actually...she hadn’t known that. She had simply agreed on monochromatic tones; much like henna. She hadn’t thought at all about the Cat’s color.

She stared blankly back at him, and he must have sensed her naivety, for his smile grew substantially.

“Red means ya want good health,” He explained, “But pink...”

He leaned forward, his expression turning to one of flirtatious mockery, “Pink means ya lookin’ for a bit’a romance.”

A wag of his eyebrow, and Eris felt her stomach drop.

“It’s red.” She fired back, her tone firm on the matter, but The Drifter simply laughed.

“Whatever ya say, darlin’!” He winked, and Eris couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps Himiko-4 had decided the color for her in full awareness of what it meant...

“Why were ya embarrassed to show it to me?” She watched him take up his mug to sip at his own drink, casually slumping in his seat once more, “It’s cute!” He smirked.

That was the exact word she hadn’t wanted to hear.

“You said it yourself.” She sighed, turning back around as she pulled her arm through the sleeve once again, “It’s a bit too...perky.”

She adjusted the top to sit correctly upon her frame and met his eyes. Scrutinizing her over the rim of his mug, an eyebrow cocked.  
  
He swallowed his sip, “Oh, I see...so Eris Morn is only allowed to sport things that are dark and savage.”

She was taken aback, her mind trying to process what he was saying.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Scary Mary.” He sat his mug down, fixing her with a challenging smirk.

Okay, that was a term she was familiar with, and she couldn’t help but feel a bit...offended at his accusation.

“I do not seek out the gloom, Rat. It tends to gravitate towards me.”

“Ah.” He nodded, but there was a cynicism in the action, “So, you allow it to dictate your life. No room for harmless wonder?”

She wasn’t a fool. She knew what he meant, but tragically, it wasn’t as simple as he seemed to believe.

In the past...she had cherished things that were lighthearted. She had loved simple things that invoked endearment. She had loved cotton candy—the very sight of its bright colors would cause a surge of joy within her, and she would always rush to buy some when it was available in the City. But now...she hated sugar.

She had enjoyed fireworks—but loud sounds and bright lights drove her mad now.

She had collected trinkets featuring adorable animals and other delightful symbols, such as hearts and stars—now, they served no purpose. She would only carry morbid charms to ward off the evil she stood before every moment of her cursed life. Bones and teeth, tanned hides, and severed fingers. Such gruesomeness.

“There is no purpose served in such things.” Her voice was a sorrowful mutter that even she could not censor, “I did not ask for the macabre. But I have been buried within it far too long.”

He watched her, eyes boring into her own, and Eris realized he was searching for something once again. She disliked when he did this. It made her feel...strange. Something unidentifiable writhing inside of her, and so, she looked away. Down to the cards— was it her turn?

A second passed as she tried to bring her thoughts back into the game they had started, but the scuff of his chair moving closer to her drew Eris’ attention back to The Drifter. He had lifted his seat slightly, scooting just a bit closer to her, and once again, Eris sat stalk still.

_He’s close again...too close..._

Her heart was beating in her throat, as he sat beside her. A lazy grin and knowing look in his eye, as he brought his leg up, plopping his foot upon the table. Then, without warning, he took his pant leg and pulled up; revealing _all_ of his thigh.

Eris' face flushed, heart stopping, and she nearly choked upon her own saliva.

_What the hell is he doing?!_

He had drawn his pant leg to his hip, revealing _far_ more than she expected to see! And though he kept his modesty to a degree—for she hadn’t caught sight of anything...private—it was still a shock to see that much of him. He truly was covered in tattoos! His leg was swarming with serpents that twisted and slithered around his limb, while more symbols and wards could be seen beneath a light dusting of hair. She wanted to turn away, her prudish nature telling her that it was wrong to look—

“Okay,” He cleared his throat, “Check this out...”  
  
He pointed to something upon his skin, and after a second’s hesitation, Eris found herself slowly leaning closer; her eyes seeking out what he was indicating. Heart rate increasing when the earthy smell of his soap struck her, and she swallowed her rising nerves as they came to be mere inches apart.

He must have showered before he went to bed...the scent of that soap was still so strong upon him, and she inhaled it involuntarily. Her mind screaming, falling into chaos.  
  
_This is wrong! It isn’t decent!_

She found herself unable to focus, even with The Drifter pointing directly at the subject matter... her anxiety was far too high.

“Ya see it?”

His voice pulled her back, shaking some of the disquiet free from her mind, and Eris took a moment to gather herself.

_Breathe. There’s nothing immoral to be upset over._

Rationale, logic, and with that reminder, she gathered herself into the mature adult she was, and looked at The Drifter’s leg. A second passed, then another, staring at the spot he had directed her attention towards.

_What am I looking—_

Then she saw it...and when she did, she froze; mind emptying of all thought. All the demureness she had wrestled with fleeing from before her in that instant.

_Is...is that..._

He giggled beside her, obviously realizing that she had just comprehended what was on his skin.

“Is that a cupcake?” Her voice betrayed her disbelief, and The Drifter burst into laughter at her reaction.  
  
“Sure is!”

She was stunned, for upon his thigh, nestled between the coils of a snake...was a purple frosted cupcake, adorned with yellow sprinkles, and a cherry on top. But the strangest part of all—the coup de grace—was a pair of eyes looking out at her from atop its frosted head. Googly-eyes to be exact.

What in the hell was _this_ all about?

“Are you joshing me?” She deadpanned, the shock hadn’t worn off.

“Nope!” His voice was full of mirth, “It’s a cupcake with googly-eyes!”

Eris blinked, “Why...why would you...”

It wasn’t a small tattoo either. In fact, it was probably close to the size of her fist, making it all the more absurd. It was badly drawn too—almost child-like in design. It was ridiculous. It was moronic—and she found herself unable to hold back the chuckles that rose in her throat.

“Oh...mercy, me....” She tried to fight the smile, but it defied her, “Why would you do something so...stupid?!”  
  
A bark of laughter escaped her, and she reflexively brought her hand to her mouth to quell it.

“Remember how I told ya ‘bout that little game Orin and I used to play in the Pilgrim Guard? The scavenger hunt?”

She did, and when she thought back to what he had said, suddenly everything began to come together.  
  
“Ohhh!” She gasped, “Oh no...”  
  
“Ohhh yessss...” The Drifter responded in kind, “One time, I lost...and as is law, I had to do somethin’ stupid.”

_Orin didn’t!_

“Sooo...” The Drifter flicked the tattoo, “Orin announced that I was to get a new tattoo. BUUUT—”

He paused dramatically, “ _SHE_ got to design it...and ink me herself.”

Eris’ eyes darted up to meet his own; wide in disbelief.  
  
“Orin knew how to tattoo?”  
  
“Hell no!” He scoffed, nose scrunched in that childish manner of his, “She couldn’t draw worth shit! But, thems the rules!”

She snorted, biting her lip to keep the laughter at bay.

“So, when we get back to the Safe City, we went to see our buddy, Gabriel. He had a tattoo shop outside the marketplace, did a lot of my original ink—mostly the snakes,” He explained, “And Orin presented her plan to him with all this excitement!”

He waved his hand to demonstrate how rambunctious the Titan had been.

“He showed her how to work the gun, and once she figured it out—” He ran his finger over the tattoo in a drawing gesture, “Buzzzzzz! Cupcake!”

“Oh...” Eris kept her hand at her lips, “Oh dear.”

“A first it was just gonna be a plain cupcake, but then Orin wanted to add color.” He sighed, “Then Gabe opened his big mouth and suggested sprinkles.”

Eris couldn’t...she just couldn’t...  
  
“Then Orin got all worked up and went—” He clutched his chest, eyes wide and gasping dramatically, “ _It needs a cherry on top!_ ”

He made his voice higher, more feminine, a slight accent to mimic Orin’s own. A pause, then he shook his head.

“Man oh, man...let me tell ya somethin’ about Orin, sistah—She was heavy handed.”

_Oh no..._

“So, the entire time, she’s just layin’ into me—” He pressed against his leg to elaborate, “And it hurt like a mother-fucker! I’m layin’ on the table screamin’ like a ten year old girl, while she’s gigglin’ like a maniac and hammerin’ into my skin like she had a goddamn chisel!”

Eris couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for the man...just a _little._

“ _THEN_ —she gets nearly to the end and has this _brilliant_ idea—” Another gasp, and his voice took on a feminine tone once more, _“I’m gonna put googly-eyes on it!”_

He threw his hand into the air, “And she just went for it!” It came back down onto his knee with a _Smack!_ and Eris found herself using all the willpower she had not to burst into laughter.

"And the whole time—” He began again.  
  
_There’s more?!_

“Nave, and Paveh are there too, and they’re gettin’ a sick kick outta the whole thing! Nave offers to let me hold his hand—and ‘cause I was hurtin’ so bad, I _actually_ took him up on it! So, I’m layin’ there, squeezin’ the hell outta his hand, screamin’ like a little bitch—meanwhile dip-shit over there—” He pointed towards Chim-Ung across the room, the little Ghost lounging on his sofa like he hadn’t a care in the world, “—he’s laughin’ at me, while Paveh, Gabe and Nave are practically pissin’ themselves! The way it all looked and sounded—ya think I was givin’ birth!”

That was it. Eris was done, and she allowed a laugh to escape. She could picture it...could imagine the pure hilarity of it all.

_The poor man._

But just as quickly as she had slipped, she reeled herself back in. She would not make a spectacle of herself.

The Drifter looked to her, a smirk spreading along his lips, “Ya like that, Moondust?” There was something brewing in his eyes, and Eris felt her nerves beginning to stand on end, “Well...it gets better...”

_No—Stop!_

“So,” He began again, “Word gets out that I got myself a new tattoo— and an abso-freakin’ adorable one at that! EVERYBODY in the Guard wanted to see it, and I’m like— _hell no!_ But freakin’ Saint...” He shook his head, “Woah-ho! He wouldn’t take no for an answer— So, he tackles my ass and tries to rip my pants off so he can see the damn thing!”

He paused, fixing her with a serious expression, “Don’t be lettin’ the angry Fire Bird find out ‘bout that,” He raised his finger, pointing sternly at her, “Don’t want Osiris gettin’ the wrong idea.”

His smirk growing; all in good humor.

“Mums the word.” She promised.  
  
It was a most hilarious image, but honestly, she wasn’t surprised that Saint-14 would resort to a radical tactic to win. If the Exo Titan had one major flaw, it would be his inability to recognize boundaries. Saint was harmless. He never meant anything by his antics, he just possessed an innocent inability to read the room. Naïve would be a good word for it, she thought.

The Drifter watched her a second more, then turned his gaze back to the tattoo in question. Silence falling, and with it, something melancholy began to grow.

“It’s my favorite tattoo.” His voice had shifted into something more gentle, “I cherish it deeply...’cause so many good memories came with it. A package deal.”

Eris felt something warm spreading through her at his words, the sheer rawness of his confession—it made her heart want to soar.

“Memories of my comrades...of my wife.”

Then all at once, the euphoria that had been building inside her took a blow to its foundation; weakening it significantly.

_He’s lamenting for her again._

Why? _Why_ was she becoming so indignant by his talks of Orin? It was wrong!

“It’s a stupid tattoo,” He went on, pulling her from bitter thoughts, “It’s sickeningly adorable and badly done—it’s not somethin’ ya’d think a guy like me would have.”  
  
He was right. Eris would have never guessed the former Dredgen would be sporting something so utterly absurd, and frankly...something a teenage girl would have chosen for body art.

It was juxtaposed against the rest of his ink. It was out of place, it didn’t belong...but it made him happy. It was something all his own.

_Just like the Cat upon my shoulder._

His eyes finally met hers, and at the sight of his small smile, her breath was stolen away. Something tender and completely honest written in his countenance—then he spoke one last time:

“But I love it all the same.”

And in that moment, Eris understood everything.

A smile of her own growing upon her lips, as she sat beside this rogue who had a divine gift for reaching that secret part of her she had put away so long ago. Something no one else had ever been able to do—not Ikora, nor Asher Mir. No, The Drifter lent her the courage she needed to allow herself brutally human experiences, and then encouraged her not to apologize for them. Oh, how grateful she was for this man!

It had been right...so very right to come to him. Even in the night, when she had stolen his time away from sleep, away from peace—he had still opened his door, and Eris did not know how to repay him for it.

They sat side by side, inches apart with eyes locked in an unblinking gaze. That something...that silent something which had no name passing between them. Both laid bare—she unveiled, and he without his head wrapped in mourning.

His hair was a bit longer than she expected. Without the bandana to push it back, the ends fell before his eyes, and the striking contrast of black against the blue was nearly mesmerizing.

_His hair was long when I first met him..._

It had always stood out.

_And his eyes._

She had always remembered his eyes. _That_ was something she could never forget.

_He had stood so average...so plain. But oh—how he had smiled with his eyes!_

**_“When the time comes—will he kneel at your feet and worship you?”_ **

Eris’ blood ran cold. The voice of her companion cutting into their moment of peace—

**_“Will he love you, Dark Queen?”_ **

A sharp pain in her skull, and Eris flinched. Something sick filling her.

_No...please...go away! Go AWAY!_

The Drifter must have sensed something was amiss, for his smile fell, and Eris could see concern fill his eyes.

**_“Would you command him to love you? You could do it.”_ **

Her breath hitched, and she began to pant. Trembling hands upon her lap, teeth beginning to chatter, and she watched the man’s eyes—those strangely blue eyes—move over her in worry.

**_“Do it—make him love you—”_ **

_Stop! Stop! STOP!_

She brought a shaking hand to the side of her head, grasping tightly for relief.

Then it hissed...  
  
**_“...you witch...”_**

It was chaos.

Eris had leapt to her feet, grabbing the bag from where it still hung on the back of her chair, and with all her might, she hurled it across the room and into the far wall.

A distressed _Squeak!_ , and Chim-Ung jerked back upon his pillows as the bag came crashing down beside the sofa.

“SHUT-UUUUUUUPPPPPP!” Eris screamed with every bit of air she had in her lungs, “JUST SHUT-UP!”

She gasped, nearly doubling over as she struggled to breathe, “YOU PATHETIC DISGUSTING PARASITE!”

Another trembling breath as her lungs shuddered, a whizzing growing with every exhale she issued.

“ONE MORE WORD AND I’LL OBLITERATE YOU!”

It wasn’t an empty threat—she would! She would do it!

She coughed, a sickening wet hack within her chest, and the room began to spin.

“Hey, darlin’! Easy now!”  
  
She whipped around to face The Drifter, who had also stood, gazing at her in complete disbelief and concern. It was real, it was sincere—he was clueless! Hunched over, one hand upon her knee to support herself, Eris raised her other to point at the pack, now lying in a heap upon the floor.

“Do you...” She rasped, a wet choking sound in her lungs, “Do you know what that _thing_ is?!”

She continued to struggle, black teasing at the corner of her eyes as she watched the man at the table. He stared at her...searching, but there was something else as well...  
  
_There’s something...something...he’s staring at me...he...he knows something!_

“It’s an Ahamkara.” His tone was devoid of all emotion. Spoken so matter-of-factly that it sent Eris into further distress.  
  
_He knows! Heknowsheknowsheknows HE KNOWS! CAN HE HEAR IT TOO?!_

She panted. Harder, and harder still—until she could contain it no longer.

_Pain._

_Sorrow.  
  
Humiliation._

_The cold above. The silk beneath. The warmth beside._

_Make it stop...make it STOP!_

A sputter, then she burst into hysterics. Screaming her anguish in a piercing shriek that broke through the memories—through the air around her. All that she felt bellowing forth in an exclamation of pure anguish.

_NO MORE!_

“IT DID THIS TO ME!” She sobbed, “MADE ME INTO—” Her hands flailed, reaching up to tear at her hair, “— _THIS_!”

She watched him...watching her carefully; remaining impassive.

“I LIED TO EVERYONE! I LIED, I LIED!” She screamed her voice raw. Something snapping in the back of her throat—she might of broken a cord...what did it fucking matter?!

“I MADE A WISH! I WAS SCARED TO DIE! I DIDN’T WANT TO DIE!”

The confession. That which she had kept hidden from everyone.

She coughed, and hacked. Doubling over as sobs wracked her entire frame. Memories slamming into her. Relentless. Merciless—

_Empty sockets where eyes once lay. She could see nothing of the room—could only imagine the massive ceiling she lay beneath._

_The silk she lay atop._

_Sweat upon her brow, blood upon her lips—sobbing, yet unable to shed tears._

_“Please!” She begged...she pleaded, “Let me die! I’ll do anything—just let me diiieeeeee!”_

_A voice answering—whispering:_

**_“But would you do anything to live?”_ **

Her unforgivable mistake—her cowardice!

“I WAS A COWARD!” She sobbed harder, “I DIDN’T _REALLY_ WANT TO DIE! I WAS SO...SO SCAAAAARRREEEDDDD!!!”

She bawled, saliva sliding down her chin as her eyes burned fiercely. Gruesome—ugly...and yet, he continued to watch her. Stalk still.

_Ancient tapestries that honored the Gods. Windows too high to climb. It was cold...so very cold..._

_Denied fire. Denied anything in which to wrap herself in warmth._

_“You impudent child!” That evil woman’s cruel voice! “Sleep upon the stones and pity yourself!”_

_Chains weighing her down._

The truth...the horrible truth...she would tell him the truth...  
  
_Yes! Let him hear the truth and watch him judge me! Finally, he will judge me!_

“The rumors are true you know!” She gritted her teeth beneath trembling lips as she stared into him, “About Crota’s harem...”

She shuddered, and swung her arm; as though to strike the words from the air itself.

“IT’S ALL TRUE!!”

At her admission, she watched his face grow pallid, and those eyes of his...

_Go ahead, Raggedy-Man—JUDGE ME!_

Still, he said nothing.

“I didn’t want to die...I didn’t want to die...” Her voice dissolved into a squeak, reflecting how pitiful she truly was inside. What a waste she was...

_“You were not meant to see that.” A crushing grip upon her face, a booming voice—the burn of his breath upon her._

_She hated him! HATED HIM!_

_“You looked when you shouldn’t have—such a sad waste.”_

_That piercing sting! Claws that plucked her sight away— s_ _creaming and screaming._

She gasped and sputtered, wobbling on weak legs—nearly folding in half. She looked up at the man and waited. Waited for his verdict, waited for his condemnation—but _still_ , he did not move.

He watched her carefully, eyes filled with the unexpected glow of—

Compassion. Empathy.

_No...I don’t understand...WHY?!_

_Still_ no pity! No judgement!

_HOW?!_

She nearly toppled to the floor as a powerful cough shook her very bones, and she tottered about like a drunk.

_Oh...there’s so much more to tell! SO MUCH MORE!_

“I made a deal with this vile creature!” She gestured to the bag once again, “He would get me out of the pit, if I took him with me...”

**_“Would you do anything to live?”_ **

_“...yes...”_

“So I did!” She shook, and nearly buckled, “I made the deal—he gave me new eyes...he disguised me...and I took him and ran!”

_Bare feet echoing upon tiled floor. Blood on her arms...on her hands..._

_Running—panting and sobbing._

“A thousand times...” She hissed, “A thousand times I had tried to escape! Only to get lost in the tunnels—”

_Stumbling in the dark. Body shivering from the cold. Cutting her flesh upon rock._

“But they found me every time—”

_Laughing...mocking! Watching her from the shadows...they toyed with her! Allowing her some semblance of hope—only to sweep her up and carry her back...back to her prison._

_“Such an ungrateful little wretch, you are!”_  
  
_Her voice—that jealous evil woman!_

_“Gifted such fine clothes!” She had spat at her, “Given food and wine—So ungrateful!_

_She had struck her...had struck her over and over—_

_“You should be honored, ugly little creature!”_

_Omnigul._

Oh, how she had hated her!

 _It is done now. It is over—No....wait..._ _Is it truly?_

The room was tilting...Eris was tilting, and all at once her legs gave out. Crashing down upon the rug. Lying in a heap, panting for breath that was desperately trying to keep her alive, sending her body into near seizures.  
  
She fought—she fought so hard! Anger and hatred that fueled her. That need...that desire for retribution. NO! Not retribution... _revenge._ A sharp pain within her head. The skipping of her heart—and realization flooded her in memory. The memory of her dreams. Of why she had come this night in the first place.

_My vengeance...my retaliation._

If what she had seen was the truth...the undeniable, the inescapable— then her wrath would truly be glorified. And it frightened her even more than the memories. A shudder as she inhaled, a breath to calm herself. Fingers clawing on the textile beneath her, as Eris began to slowly push herself up—burning eyes peering at The Drifter through strands of unkempt hair. He had not moved. Had not spoken. Eyes unblinking, patiently waiting.

It was maddening!

“Well?! Say something?!” She snapped, baring her teeth like a rabid animal.

Still, he did not react.

“Speechless?! Of all the times I had desired your silence, _now_ you grace me with it?!”

Nothing.

It infuriated her! Drove her harder into frenzy! Remembrances of the dream pounding in her head—

_Sitting upon a throne of thorns to match her crown— Blood on her hands—the blood of her enemies. Of those who had enslaved her, beaten her, humiliated her!_

A bark of fury escaping her, head bowed towards the floor once more, her lungs spasming at the onset of hyperventilation.

 _I can’t breathe...I can’t breathe!  
_  
If only the void could swallow her up. Take her faraway into a purgatory where she could be safe form other’s cruelty—a place where _she_ could do no harm.

_What was theirs was now HERS. Their titles, their thrones, their crowns...their power._

A shudder—then another, and another. A clenching at her heart.

_And all it took...was the acceptance of an offer made in the darkest of places._

If the universe was to be saved...would Eris have to die? She had searched for so long, trying to find that final element that would bring salvation. Grant her vengeance, not only for herself, but for the destruction of her team. Bring about a way to save the innocent...

But...  
  
_Am I the missing link? Would my death be the only way to save them all?_

She didn’t like what she was seeing—she didn’t like what was being demonstrated! She had succeeded, but at what cost?!  
  
A hiccup slammed into her lungs, and her body shook violently.  
  
_I can’t breathe! I’m going to be sick!_

That churning in her stomach—she feared she _truly_ would be sick!

_Please...please..._

Footsteps upon the rug, and in an instant, legs came down to kneel before her. Eris stiffening as strong hands grasped her upper arms, and gently pressed, coaxing her to sit upright. She allowed it. The touch of power and strength causing the fight to flee from her, and she came back to sit upon her heels; eyes shifting to meet The Drifter’s. Calm and collected. There was a commanding presence about him, something so virile and firm, that in the spasm of her anxious state, Eris felt strength beginning to envelope her once more. Feeding off of him...drawing from him.

She didn’t resist as he took up her hands and brought them to her face, cupping them over her nose and mouth, forcing her to rebreathe. Trying to calm her, to bring her back to herself—

“Breathe. Just breathe.”

Her heart leapt into her throat. Those words...his voice...

_I’ve heard this before._

Trembling and struggling to slow her breath, her eyes met his as he kept her hands pressed to her face; holding them while she regathered her strength.

“It’s alright, darlin’.” His voice just above a whisper, “You’re with me right now, and everythin’ is alright.”

Her spirit could have left her body in that instant. The manner in how he spoke those words; the genuineness of it all. Eris released another sob, shoulders shaking, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

_Just breathe...he’s right...I’m not alone now. I’m safe._

Even so, she could not hold back a whimper, and the hiccup which followed was the most pitiful of sounds.

“Shhhhh...” He shushed, and she felt his hands lift from her own, coming to run along her upper arms in a soothing gesture, “Shhh...just breathe. You’re alright.”

She had never heard him sound so delicate before. In fact, she had never thought he was capable of speaking in such a manner at all, and in that moment, Eris accepted the fact that The Drifter had become a soft place to fall.

This rat. This inglorious swindler. How strongly he could stand each time he was forced to catch her. A deep breath, followed by another. The soothing exhales, the feeling of his fingers gently massaging her arms and shoulders, she was sinking into it all.

_Safe. With him._

A mantra inside her head—

_I’m safe with him._

An undeniable truth. Trust. In fact, the part of her that would have cringed from physical contact had strangely...vanished. She did not feel the urge to pull away, to strike him...to demand he remove his hands. No—she was welcoming it. The shock of this revelation...and yet, she felt oddly calm. At peace. With confidence renewed, Eris slowly lowered her hands and began to breathe on her own. In through her nose, out through her mouth. Eyes closed, seeing only a sky filled with clouds in her mind’s eye; gently sailing through the atmosphere. Free. Untouched.

The way she used to be.

Then she heard his voice breaking through her serenity—

“Ya need to rest.”

Pointed. Candid. She agreed. She was tired, so horrendously tired, and she had kept him from his own repose long enough.  
  
_I should go._

Opening her eyes, preparing to speak her gratitude and then find her way back to her ship—he stopped her:  
  
“You’re stayin’ here tonight, darlin’.”

_What? No..._

She startled in the face of his command. The overly modest portion of her nature already taking argument and offense to the very idea—but she had slept upon his floor before, true?  
  
_That time...with the rum._

Yes, she had passed out upon the rug with The Drifter at her side...and nothing had changed. She had maintained her propriety, and he had been ever respectful in that regard. Quite virtuous, really. Be that as it may— despite the casual nature of every interaction they had ever engaged in...something felt different this time.

The proverbial butterflies in her stomach...

“No, I...” Her voice was a croak, and she cleared her throat to begin again, “I will not take advantage of your hospitality.”

There was still a tremor in her voice, body filled with adrenaline not yet depleted. He chuckled in response to her words, and even Eris had to admit, she sounded rather strange. After all that had just transpired—the madness, the fury, the emotional wreckage that unfolded before his eyes...she still had enough force of will to be prim and proper in her answer.

A small grin upon his lips, his face beginning to show signs of fatigue, “You’re stayin’ here tonight, and that’s the last word.”

His tone insinuated that any argument on the matter would be ignored, and she startled when Chim-Ung suddenly leapt from his perch and flew from the room. Now puzzled by the Ghost’s actions, flustered by The Drifter’s touch, and weak from her hysterics—Eris did not have the will to argue. In fact, he was acting more practical than she.

To try and journey back to Luna...like this...

A sigh passed her lips, and she hung her head, nodding in an expression of surrender.

_Just for the night._

He held onto her arms as he rose to his feet, bringing her to stand with him, but when her weight shifted back onto stick legs, they nearly buckled once more. Too weak...too discouraged. Her body had very little left to give.

_I’ve grown so gaunt—so very pathetic._

Once, she had been strong. Lean and full of energy. Her body had been built for the hunt, for climbing cliffsides, and swimming across lakes. But now—

_How repulsive I’ve become._

“Easy, hun.” He steadied her as she slipped forward once more, grabbing onto his arms to try and straighten herself.

Pins and needles. Spasms in what little muscle she had left, and Eris clung to him just a little too tightly. But he said not a word about it, stepping a bit closer to give her leverage.

“Here,” He gestured behind her with his chin, “Let’s get ya to the couch.”

Turning was an issue, but with his aide, she managed to shuffle about, feet dragging slowly across the rug, as he directed her towards the sofa from behind. Her entire form felt weighed down—far too heavy than it should and she found herself relying upon his strength to keep her upright. Hands still upon her arms, she could feel his chest bump against her back as they moved.

The pillow fort Chim-Ung had made for himself lay in waiting, and a thought struck her—

“No, I can’t sleep here...” Her tone was listless, “This is Chim-Ung’s bed.”  
  
“The hell it is!” The Drifter scoffed, “His sorry ass can sleep somewhere else.”

“I can utilize the floor.” She offered, but that earned her arms a squeeze.

“Ya ain’t sleepin’ on the floor! Will ya just lay down and quit creatin’ problems where there are none?”

She was _not_ creating problems. She just did not wish to be rude. The floor was good enough for her.

She paused when they reached the sofa. Gazing down at the small indentation where his Ghost had laid. She hesitated, worry that she was being ill-mannered growing with each second—but the brush of something at her jaw, and warm breath upon her made her stiffen.

“Just lie down, Moondust.” A whisper, and Eris was nearly paralyzed. The feel of his beard at her neck, the tip of his nose just glancing her hair, and his lips at her ear—

A shiver passed through her, not of fear or revulsion...

_Why am I so feeble now? Am I finally coming completely apart?_

A gentle push, a coaxing, and she no longer had the will to resist. She came to sit upon the sofa, bringing her legs up to lie upon her side, as The Drifter released his hold on her arms. From over his shoulder, she caught the red-eye of Chim-Ung watching her carefully, and she worried once again that she had invaded the little light’s sanctuary. Guilt and concern was taking hold, and she began to convince herself that she should be more courteous and sleep upon the floor. It did not bother her—she had slept in far worse places.

But the little light came closer, his eye breaking apart with a beam of light as he materialized a simple dark blue blanket which the Drifter caught midair.

_Oh...he had fetched that for me..._

Her heart ached when she realized the Ghost had fled the room to retrieve it just for her, and her jaw tightened as she tried to hold back the new rush of feeling that was threatening to spill forth. Her fatigue was encompassing, as her head came to rest upon the cluster of pillows, and she could only lay in a state of lethargy as The Drifter unfolded the blanket and carefully draped it over her.

It was soft—not heavy at all, and she curled beneath it just the slightest bit; trying to pry as much comfort from it as she could. The gratitude swelling inside of her was threatened by the guilt she felt over the fuss she had caused.

Taking Chim-Ung’s bed from him.

But it wasn’t just that. No, it was all the times she had invaded The Drifter’s space. Had eaten his food without compensation, taken his time, tried his patience with her traumas.

_Why not throw me out? Why continue this routine?_

Yes. Surely, she was the catalyst of misfortune.

_Those dreams..._

That twisted feeling inside her began to grow. That thought she had been burying. Denying...

Visions of the future.

_No!_

A future where she bends—

_I refuse to believe it!_

Where she obtains everything she ever wanted—

_The things that are to come..._

The Drifter cut into her anxious musings—

“G’night, sistah.” He offered her a small smile, turning away to leave her to rest.

Her tormented thoughts interrupted—her eyes locking upon him.

_And the things that are never meant to be..._

Her hand shot out, grabbing his wrist; halting him. He couldn’t leave her...not yet! Her fingers clutching so tightly, she could see her knuckles turn white, and The Drifter turned to her with a question in his eye that faded to concern when he caught sight of her trembling form. She couldn’t help it—couldn’t stop it. She was shaking beneath the blanket, a chattering in her bones that ached so deeply she felt she would fall to pieces. A state of fear she hadn’t experienced since she had made a pact with a devil for a set of eyes that would cheat her death.

That fear of the unknown. She needed perspective, she needed a notion....and it seemed only The Drifter could give it to her.

"What if—” Her voice was tiny and hoarse, and she swallowed down the anguish as best she could, “What if vengeance is to be mine? What if I do something—awful once again simply to have it?”

Her hand trembled of its own volition. Licking her lips before she spoke the words that would convey everything she had buried inside.  
  
“What would I become?”

A whisper of pure terror, and then silence fell. She watched him, looking for a sign that he would either confirm her fears or dash them, but his expression was impassive. He gave nothing of himself away. No confusion, no fear, nor any indignation of how he felt about her behavior. Nevertheless, his eyes bore into her own, and though she could not decipher anything from them, they were still the softest she had ever seen.

He never blinked, never removed his eyes from hers as he slowly lowered himself onto the floor; sitting beside the sofa. Then, reaching out, he gently took the hand that clutched his wrist into his own, and Eris gasped, eyes growing wide when she felt a warmth beginning to grow inside her.

It was the burn of his flame! Passed from himself to her.

_A man made of fire._

Gently—ever so gently, he moved his fingers around her own, interlacing them until their palms pressed together. Then she felt the ripple of something benevolent—

_His light...he’s sharing his light!_

Oh, she’d forgotten how glorious it felt! That peace, that security. Something so pure, and all she could do was squeeze his hand just a little tighter.

Their eyes locked, holding on to each other tightly, as did their hands, and a question rose within Eris. A question that was so very important, but she feared to ask aloud:

_What does he see when he looks at me?_

“Long ago, there was a girl who had no name.” His gentle voice began to speak, “For you see...on the day she was born, when she was laid in the arms of her mother, it was asked what name she would be given—”

Eris’ heart began to race— He was telling her a story. He was giving her one of his stories—and she could feel the enchant of delight beginning to break free of the gloom.

He went on:

“But her mother didn’t know what name would be best, and had no answer to give. So, she was handed to her father, but no name came to him either. She was passed to the doctor, but he could think of nothing—then, she was handed to the old man of the village, but unfortunately names were elusive to him.”

A shiver of delight passed through her, as he began to rub his thumb gently along the side of her hand; fingers still clutched together.

“They asked the potter—she didn’t know. They asked the tiller—he didn’t know either. And so it went that not one person in the entire village could think of a single name.”

He sighed, bringing a bit of drama into his delivery, “Finally, one of the children pointed out the most sensible thing in the world— something that had eluded all the grown-ups! Cause ya see...”

He leaned forward slightly, something conspiratorial rising in his tone, “Grown-ups don’t know how to see the simple and the plain. Not like children do—oh no.” He shook his head and grinned, “Children aren’t bothered by the ridiculous mechanics of the grown-up world. They see only the glory of the world around them. Life is simple. Life is easy.”

There was so much truth in what he said.

“The child spoke: _‘Go to the Old Mother. She’ll know a good name!’_ And so they did! The whhhooole village got together and made a procession! Carrying the baby girl to the edge of the forest, to a tiny house that stood near a pond. The place where the Old Mother lived.”

Eris could see it—A hut of sticks and stones, shaded beneath the cool canopy of trees that stretched towards the sun.

“And so, they lay the baby in the Old Mother’s arms, and as she looked down with eyes that had seen so much of the world, she declared for all to hear: _‘This child shall not be named.’_

He cleared his throat: “Well, obviously everyone was confused, but they knew better than to question the word of the Old Mother, and so, they returned without a name.”

_Traveling on winding paths—down the mountains, towards a city far away. A place where others like her dwelled._

Eris remembered.

_Talks of a name along the way. What she would be called. Playful ones, strong ones, delicate ones..._

“So,” The Drifter’s tone held something curious, “As the years went by, and the baby grew from a little girl into a young woman, she began to question why no name had been given to her. For all around, others had names! Every day she would hear parents call to their children, and catch sight of lovers walking together, whispering each other’s names—even the animals had titles! But not her...and it hurt so badly.”

_Once in the city, the weeks had passed...still, she had not taken a name._

He brought the elbow of his other arm up, leaning onto the cushion beside her head, bringing their faces closer together as he rested his chin in his hand. His eyes never broke from her own, and Eris felt her heart skip.

Perhaps it was from kindling the fire inside him, but the scent of magic around him grew ever stronger, and it wafted over her. Sweet and spicy.

“Then, one day—” He continued, “She finally asked her parents why they had not given her a name: _‘Because...’_ they said, _‘The Old Mother declared you should not have one.’_ And this simply confused her even more, for she did not understand why she _had_ to be different from everyone else. She thought the Old Mother was being cruel, and so, she made up her mind to travel to the hut at the edge of the forest, that lay beside a pond, and ask for herself.”

_Being brought before The Speaker. Asking the question as to “why?” Why her?_

“Through the forest and to the house beside the pond, the Old Mother came to greet the girl, and without fanfare or meaningless small-talk, the girl asked why she had not been given a name. _‘You are not meant to be named.’_ the wise woman explained, _‘No one shall give one to you. It is the way it must be.’_ And with that, the Old Mother closed the door and would say no more.”

_Asking the man...the prophet—and then walking away with disappointment in her heart._

_There had been no answer—not one of any meaning._

“Well, the girl would have none of it!” He chuckled, “And so, she made a choice—if no one in the village would give her a name, then she would seek out someone who would. And so, she grabbed what little she needed, and set out on her own.”

_Pursuing answers. Wanting identity._

“Over hills, across rivers, through woods and glens—she sought out others, but the world was big. So very big, and the girl felt so small and so alone.”

_She had come to learn, she was not special at all._

“One day, she found a tiny village that stood upon stilts along a lake. Surely someone here would give her a name! And sure enough, she met an old fisherman untangling knots form his nets. _‘Excuse me!’_ She cried, _‘Can you give me a name?’_ The old fisherman looked at her like she were mad, and asked: _‘Why do you not have one?’_ The girl cried, and explained how her family would not name her—and through her tears, the fisherman felt pity and so he picked a name: _‘Amber.’_ He said, _‘For that is the color of your eyes.’_ And the girl thought it was good enough, so she thanked the man.”

_She had tried different names—_

“The girl decided to stay in the fisherman’s village. She tried to live the life she thought an Amber would lead. She talked the way she thought an Amber would talk, and liked the things she thought an Amber would like—but it didn’t feel right, and no matter how hard she tried, she simply could not be Amber.”

_None of them had stayed._

“So she took her things and left the village on the lake. Over hills, across rivers, through woods and glens—she walked again, until she found a village carved into the side of a cliff.”

The Drifter smoothed his thumb across her hand once more, causing another shiver of delight.

“And there she met a weaver woman, dying wool in the sun. ‘ _Excuse me!’_ The girl cried, _‘Can you give me a name?’_ The weaver woman looked at her strangely and asked: _‘Why would you ask for a name?’_ The girl cried again, and explained how she had been nameless since birth—and the weaver woman felt sad, and so picked a name: _‘Raven.’_ She said, _‘For that is the color of your hair.’_ And the girl thought this one too was good enough, thanked the woman, and walked away.”

_Something had been left behind in those days._

“The girl stayed in this village too, trying to live the life she supposed a Raven would live. She ate the foods she thought Raven would eat, she dressed the way she thought Raven would dress—but once again, it didn’t feel right. And so she learned, that she was not Raven.”

_Trying to be like others. The power and the glory of those dressed in gilded armor—_

“So, with her things gathered, she left the village and set out for another.” He sighed, “But no matter where she went, no matter how many names people bestowed upon her...they never truly felt like her own. ‘ _Ebony- for that is the color of your skin.’_ – _‘Bliss- for that is how you smile.’_ On and on it went, until she had worn a thousand names...and discarded every single one of them.”

_A room lit only by a candle...tiny and sparse with no heat during the winter months. She had not much in her new life...just books she had collected. So many books!_

“And as the time had slipped on by, the girl began to think about her own village. Of her family. Of the old mother...and a decision was made deep within her heart—”

_Within a book, smelling of must and time—_

“Over the hills...” His voice had softened, something playful in his tone, “...across rivers, through woods and glens—she returned to the hut that sat beside the pond, and the old mother came out to greet her once more.”

_She had read a name. A perfectly good name._

“The girl told the old mother all about her adventures. How she had been gifted so many names, and yet none of them had become her own. She wanted to know...to know why that was—but the old mother simply laughed. _‘Of course none of them are your name! Did I not say that no one can give one to you?’_ And perhaps it had been the years spent away—perhaps it had been from the experiences of the world—but the girl did something she had not done before...”

He paused, a smile spreading across his face, as he whispered so gently, “She listened to the old mother’s words.”

_Eris._

“In that moment, the girl had finally understood— she hadn’t been denied a name...she would simply have to make one for herself. So, the girl gave herself a name—Destiny, for it was what she had made for herself.”

And with that, he ended his story. Eris felt her face grow warm, something trying to claw its way from her chest as her breath was caught in her throat. Her lips trembled as she tried so hard to find words...to find something to say in return...

But then—he spoke again:

“Ya see, Moondust,” He unlaced their fingers, “For all the calamities in the universe..."

Her body tensed, pulse racing in her ears as he reached for her—

“For all the _shoulda’s_ , the _woulda’s_ and the _coulda’s_...”

She couldn’t breathe! Couldn’t breathe, as he brushed the hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear with the most tender expression.

“For all the _maybes,_ all the questions as to _who_ , and _what_ —”

_Oh...God..._

His fingertips—running through her hair. Her body shaking beneath the blanket he had bestowed her.

“—the _where_ and _when_ ,” He tilted his head in his hand, “And most especially the _why_...”

_His touch...his gentle touch..._

“It will never, ever change the fact...that there is only one Eris Morn.”

And when he looked down upon her, and she up at him—their noses nearly touching—with his fingers intwined in her hair, he told her another secret. A secret so plain and obvious.

_How?_

She felt the sting of tears wanting to fall, but she knew it was a phantom sensation. Much like a lost limb. For the eyes of a Hive were incapable of such expression.

_How could this man—_

They watched each other. Her lips trembling with emotion so powerful, made all the heavier at the benevolence in his own.

A question screaming in her head—something she could not ask him:

_How could this man have ever—_

Bliss, pure and absolute, as his fingers began to slowly make their way along her scalp—along the grotesqueness she had traded her life for. But it didn’t seem to matter at all...and she shuddered as he continued; coaxing her into peace. Something she had never felt in this third life of hers.

The question—one born from an ugly truth:

_...how could he have ever been a Dredgen?_

It was a mystery that made her heart bleed, and she gazed upon him with a compassion to match his own. Two souls not yet lost, trying so hard to stay afloat in a sea of tragedies, and if they were to reach for one another...

His fingers left her hair, sliding slowly down— so slowly...

If they were to grab on to each other as tightly as they could...

Touching her skin—running along her cheek. Her shuddering breath, and trembling lips—no one had ever touched Eris Morn this way before.

If they could hold on to each other...then maybe...

Down her cheek, to her chin---

...maybe they could both be saved.

Her breath hitched, a tiny gasp escaping her as the tips of his fingers brushed across her lips. So subtle, so intimate a gesture, but then he gently pulled his hand away; taking some of the warmth with it. Eris couldn’t help it, she fought back the whimper of disappointment that was threatening to spill forth. She hadn’t wanted him to stop, and when she realized this, it brought embarrassment and shame down upon her.

_What is wrong with me...what am I doing?_

It didn’t change the reality.

A soft smile upon his lips, and he whispered: “Go to sleep.”

And with that, he stood, and turned away.

_No...no, please stay..._

She hadn’t the courage to say it out loud. She was not brave enough to request this of him.

_Please, stay with me._

If she were to ask...would he stay? If he were to stay...what would happen?

Heat in her face, a tremble so violent in her body that she clutched the blanket all the tighter about her—watching him. He did not meet her gaze. Instead, his eyes were fixed upon her bag, still lying on the floor. Silent. Finally silent. Then, without another word or a backwards glance, he reached down and scooped up the offending pouch. Making his way towards the exit, and turning off the lights as he did.

Then he was gone, taking her tormentor with him, and her heart ached all the more at this simple gesture of kindness. He was rescuing her. Giving her peace and quiet. That wicked bastard that she had indebted herself to...never letting her rest...never letting her forget...

The Drifter had brushed it all away. A least for the night. She nearly wept in gratitude.

The glow of safety lights kept the room from total darkness, and though Eris’ eyes were developed for the night, the truth was...the truth _is_...she is horrendously, and thoroughly afraid of the dark. It was a shameful secret she had only ever shared with one other person—Asher. The fact, she was unable to sleep in total darkness; it was suffocating, all-consuming. How ridiculous! For she could see in the dark, but—

_It’s the thought of it._

The dim glow was most welcomed, and she lay upon her side, gazing out at the room with eyes that saw nothing of the world around her, only seeing what was in her mind’s eye. Thoughts consumed by The Drifter’s words. Images of his story playing out as she allowed the message, hidden in the lines, to continue its work; calming her mind, easing her soul.

_I have not forgotten who I was._

This was the truth.

_I still have insight—I have my agency._

Yes, she was not yet lost.

_Just as HE was not yet lost._

She took a deep breath, releasing it slowly as she curled deeper beneath the blanket, allowing her head to sink into the pillows. She could smell the soap he used to wash the linen, but it was mixed with a sawdust like odor, and Eris couldn’t help the amusement that rose within her.

The Drifter was a man who was always moving, building, creating. His skills in mechanics and smithing, and carpentry was imbedded in everything. It permeated the world around him, and she could smell it— _feel_ it whenever he was near. It had become familiar and expected. A constant in her life that she now realized she could depend upon; security, stability. Things she had been denied for so long—but with him...

She thought, maybe...

A red glow from the corner of her eye, and she looked to see Chim-Ung peeking over the armrest at her feet. There was a bashfulness about him, as though he were worried that she would be most uncomfortable with his presence. But Eris found his sudden appearance most reassuring, and she welcomed it; offering him a small smile.

“Hello.” She whispered, and he rose a little higher at her greeting; bringing his full shell into view.

“I do apologize for taking your spot.” She continued, but the Ghost quickly shook himself. A gesture to assure her that she needn’t apologize for anything.

But still, Eris felt she was an intruder.

She watched the little light for a moment, taking in his appearance. His shell...such a horrible sight! Red eye like that of a Vex—

_Same as Asher’s..._

It made her stomach turn, made her heart ache.

_Poor thing. How awful it must feel!_

But...the Ghost had allowed it to happen. Chim-Ung had orchestrated everything. The sad reality, the unfortunate truth. Eris understood. It was that need of all living things—to survive.

_I am guilty. I am a coward._

No. She would not think of such things.

She turned her attention back to the Ghost, and realized something— this was the first time they had both been left alone. Just the two of them. An opportunity she did not want to squander, for even though fatigue was pulling heavily at her mind and eyes, she wished to share in something with him.

“Orin named you Chim-Ung?”

It was a rhetorical question, but it was pertinent for what she truly wished to say.

“Do you miss her?” Her whisper sounded weak to her own ears, heart beating just a little faster.

There was a heaviness that descend upon the Ghost, something raw and human, and Chim-Ung slowly nodded. His eye drooped in a sorrowful manner, and the sight caused a lump to form in Eris’ throat. She could sense the depth of the expression, the absolute admittance that he had loved the Awoken woman very much.

She swallowed, “I knew her. Not as well as I wish I could have...”

_A woman made of stardust—surrounded by others who looked upon her with clear adoration. Even in the brilliance of noonday...she outshone the sun itself._

“But still,” she continued, “I did have the honor of knowing Orin The Sunbreaker.”

A pause. A moment to search her memories, while Chim-Ung slowly drifted closer; coming to rest upon the cushion beside Eris. Closer than he’d ever been, his eye bore into her own as he waited to hear more.

She offered him a another gentle smile, “She was so kind...and so beautiful—everywhere she went, people would stare.”

_Crowds would part for her, conversations would cease._

“I remember,” Eris’ whisper was merely a breath upon her lips, “I heard children turn to their mothers and say: _“Oh...Mama, look! Look how pretty she is!”_ ”

_Standing tall and moving with grace unmatched. Body lean in strength, yet womanly with those curves that drove men wild. Awoken eyes of silvery blue and cupid’s bow lips which always wore a smile._

_Who could ever possibly compare?_

“Whispers and sighs...”

There was something churning inside of Eris. Something...very upsetting, and anxiety began to rear its head once more. She had always been in awe of Orin. Idolizing her. Wanting to be just like her.

_I was so star-struck._

Those days of childish hero-worship. Orin had been an example to Guardians everywhere. An ideal.

But now—

Eris bore into Chim-Ung, who listened with such sincere interest and patience.

“Everyone loved her,” She choked out, and she steeled herself; bracing for what she was about to say, “But _he_ loved her most of all, didn’t he?”

Her tone was hoarse, something deep inside trying to push its way to the surface, laced with anger and fear. The hardest part of all. The truth she knew, but was trying to deny.

“And he still does...doesn’t he?” Her breath caught in her throat, a final whisper.

She already knew the answer, but still, the question wasn’t rhetorical. She wanted confirmation, she wanted to truly know.

_Why? It’s none of my affair._

It was that constant need to simply... _know_.

And then, Chim-Ung’s eye slowly moved over her face, and she could feel the sadness radiating from him. He was searching her, treating her gently...like a piece of porcelain that would shatter if he did not handle her correctly. He nodded.

A moment in time where everything came full circle.

Something burned behind Eris’ eyes, and she closed them tightly. She knew...she had known the answer all along, and yet, she was confused.  
  
_What difference does it make? Why am I so...so..._

This was the part that scared her the most, for there was an ache in her chest; a horrible weight which would surely crush her. It was nonsense.  
  
_Just let me fade away. Let me disappear._

How could it hurt so badly?

She felt the weight of Chim-Ung lift from the cushion. The Ghost must have taken her silence and the closure of her eyes as a dismissal; leaving her to sleep. But when she felt a sudden pressure at the crown of her head, she froze. Realizing Chim-Ung had come to lay upon her pillow, nestling into her hair. She could feel the heat of his light spreading down, into her face, her neck, her shoulders...It was a beautiful feeling. Warm and soothing. He was trying—trying so hard to let her know it was alright. That she would be alright.

How she hoped it would be true.

She breathed. Deep and shuddering. She would be alright, she would survive. Eris Morn always did. However, there was still that shame...the shame that she couldn’t shake free of, for as she slipped away into slumber, encouraged by the warmth of Chim-Ung’s companionship, Eris realized the cruel and malicious truth—

That she was beginning to despise Orin.


	11. Author's Note

Hi Y'all,

Just wanted to give everyone a very heartfelt **Thank You** for all the support you have been giving this story. So...Thank You!  
  
I'm extremely surprised and dumbfounded by the amount of love and attention this fic has been receiving from readers all over the world. A little fact about me, I'm one of those people that tends to complete an activity and then forget all about it as I move on to other responsibilities. As such, when I began posting chapters of this fic, I was doing so with no thought to how it would be received and whether it would garner any interest at all; it was all in the name of fun. Receiving reviews and feedback for the work is also inconsistent, and so, I never paid closer attention to how much readership my work was actually accumulating. I just assumed it was my silly little contribution to a fandom I enjoy and left it at that.  
  
So, imagine my disbelief when over the past several weeks, I began to receive notices from various acquaintances saying things like: "Hey, did you see this?--" and "HA! Check this out!" etc. etc. I have fallen down a rabbit hole on the internet...for I have been directed to DOZENS upon DOZENS of links to fanart, reposts of the story, forum conversations and tweets about it, I have discovered that some people have taken it upon themselves to translate it into different languages, apparently several people wish to adapt it into a graphic novel, and there are numerous works being openly inspired by it.

Just imagine me sitting before my computer thusly: ".............??????"

I'm speechless. 

All I can say is **Thank You So Very Much**. I am happy to know that so many people have developed an emotional connection to the work, and the realization that it is bringing joy and entertainment into lives all over the world is a truly humbling experience.   
  
There is much more to come. So stay tuned.


	12. Tarot

_Drip! Drip! Drip! Water striking against stone. Echoing in the dark of a cavern—black as pitch and cold. Ever so cold!_

_She moves with a gait so steady and confident. Eyes made for the shadows, seeing everything. Every pebble, every crack in the rocks, every organism that had made the dark its home._

_This hidden world that surrounded her—she could see it all._

_A pit that swallows the light._ _The sight of her own breath, swirling tendrils that rose into the air before dispersing, and she pauses before the gapping maw of a tunnel; the confidence she had walked in faltering._ _She knows it will lead her deeper into the unknown. Deeper into the dark...but, it will also lead her to the truth._

_Is this what she wanted? Why she had searched for so long?”_

_Silence. Save for the droplets of water that descended from on high. No whispering orb to torment her. No, she was without her wicked companion. Without her armor, her cloak or her veil._ _She stood beneath the ground, unmasked, and garbed in a simple robe. Her hair that she had so violently chopped from her head had returned; falling down her back to brush her hips. Just as she had worn it in happier days. She could feel the weight of it, and it brought comfort to her ever troubled mind._

 _Something familiar. Something she had clung to for security. Her hair had been a cherished possession—oh, how she had loved tending to it! Something all her own. Something that had been beautiful when she felt the rest of her was lacking._ _She wonders at this change, and how much time has passed for her to have reclaimed her trophy, b_ _ut a breeze brushes past her, interrupting such thoughts, as it blows from within the tunnel. She startles at the realization that there must be an egress point somewhere deep within the cavern._

_There is no turning back...she’s come this far. And so, with one careful step, she enters the undiscovered._

_There is no sound, save the light padding of her bare feet—but it is stifled. There is no echo._

_She can feel herself moving downwards, the path banking slightly to pull her towards the core of whatever world she has found herself—in fact, she has no memory of where she is or how she came to be in such a place._ _Stolen time._

_She feels the brush of something cold rush past her, like a gust of wind, but strangely—more tangible. Like something invisible had ridden upon it, and it sends a chill through her. But she is not afraid—no, there is calm calculation about all of this. A focus that banishes any unease._

_She will not be afraid. She will not be deterred._

_A Chirp! halts her in her tracks. Followed by another...and another...._

_She can see the end of the tunnel, a glowing light that breaks free of the shadows, and from its mouth, the chittering continues; growing in volume as she takes one cautious step after another._

_There is something there..._

_As she steps forth from the darkened passageway, Eris finds that she has come to stand inside a massive cavern. Rocks coated in a sheen of moisture that glitters in the light cast by pale green orbs that hang in the air. A dozen of them floating in space above her, their appearance much like the monster she had become chained to._

_And the sound! That incessant Chittering!_

_Above...coming from above...  
  
She cringes at the ringing it brings to her ears, and as she raises her eyes towards the ceiling, within the shadows she can see something moving about—shifting, floating....twisting in graceful loops._

_She stares, unblinking, breath caught in her throat as she tries so hard not to move. For if she does, will she disturb whatever clearly lives above?_

_It’s massive. Blocking out the sight of the canopy of stone, and she feels a tremble when she contemplates what a beast it must be!  
  
But...no...wait...something is different—_

_Though it moves in a uniform manner...it doesn’t seem whole..._

_A Trill! and she watches in shock as the form above begins to shift about more violently. Something disturbing it, increasing its speed—swirling round and round, interweaving like a string tying itself in knots.  
  
Beautiful—hypnotic!_

_Then she realizes—it truly isn’t one single entity! No! The mass consists of thousands of creatures moving as one!  
  
Are they bats?! No...no they’re not..._

_Her contemplation is abruptly ceased as she watches in absolute terror as they rapidly descend upon her! Diving through the air in an aggressive attack, and all Eris can do is scream as they come to engulf her form—a cacophony of sound! Screaming! Shrieking! Chittering!  
  
Birds! They’re birds!_

_She slams her hands upon her ears, flinching in pain at the power of the noise they make! Tucking her arms as close to her sides as she can, trying to shrink inwards, away from their charge—but then, they come to swirl about her frame. Weaving around her, engulfing her in graceful figure-eight’s that never once touch her form, and in this close proximity, she realizes that they are not truly birds—but thousands of playing cards taking the form of avian creatures.  
  
Birds made of cards._

_Her eyes wide, watching the swirls of black, white and red zoom past in frightening speed. The sound they make! A horrible roar! And Eris is unsure how much more she can withstand._

_Growing...growing...overpowering...until—_

_They stop._

_Gently, delicately, they fall to the floor. Lifeless cards that lay before her feet; all of them face down._

_Silence. More deafening than the shrieks of these fabricated birds falls upon the cavern, and Eris slowly lowers her hands. Shaking, eyes darting about as she searches for a new threat—_

_What lay in the shadows that she could not see?_

_Her breath a shudder, breaking the silence as wisps of steam rise from her lips. Still so cold!  
And as she continues to scan the area, her eyes land upon an object, straight ahead of where she stands. Black and seated in shadow._

_An altar?_

_She cannot be sure, but something is calling—beckoning. A pressure inside her mind, like a hand grasping her— pulling her forward._

_She must go. She must answer._

_Treading upon the cards beneath her, she feels their fading heat thawing the naked skin of her feet—the force that had granted them life fading away. She strides carefully, eyes hyper-focused upon the darkened object..._

_It’s whispering! She swears that it is!  
  
Then all at once—_

_A card shoots up from the floor to hover before her face, and she gasps, halting immediately as her mind fights against her body’s fear. Breath hitching, eyes attempting to refocus, she finds the image of a mighty tower, struck by the spider webs of lightening from the clouds above. Tarot. She recognizes it. The Card of The Tower._

_It floats before her—as though waiting, and she wonders at this..._

_Waiting...waiting for her..._

**_Take it._ **

_So she does, and as her fingers close upon it—a shock surges through her, causing her body to tense. A sudden sensation that strikes her fast and hard, and she begins to hear..._

_Screams. Cries. Wailings and the sound of crumbling rock and steel._

_Pain! Fear! Filling her mind, clenching at her heart!  
  
No...no...stop! Stop! Stop!  
  
Louder it grows—thousands...millions of voices, until she can bear it no more—and she releases the card as though it had burned her hand. _

_She watches as whatever power that held it upright gives up its grasp, and the card falls silently to the floor; rejoining its companions._

_She catches her breath. Nerves on end at what she had just witnessed, and with a stronger conviction than before, Eris steps forward once again with great intention, trying to reach the shrine, to find the answer she sought—to escape this torment._

_But again—Another card rises to meet her, and this time, she chokes down the gasp of fright as she nearly trips over her own feet._

_This card...another tarot, bearing the Wheel of Fortune, and Eris watches as the wheel begins to turn. The Click! Click! Click! of the cogs echoing in the cavern. Faster and faster it spins!_

_Until a second card rises to join it—side by side—it bears the image of Death, and in one smooth motion, the reaper takes up his scythe and slashes through the Wheel of Fortune. The sound of crashing wood and steel causes Eris to flinch, and she watches as the now bisected card descends to the floor once more; the Death card falling to lay atop it._

_Silence once more, save for the rushing of blood in Eris’ ears. A fear she hasn’t felt in centuries—reborn in this moment._

_She had to get out! She had to reach her objective! That whisper...barely audible...but there nonetheless.  
  
 **Come.**_

_She cannot deny its request, and so, she steps forward once again, feet silent upon the covered floor, when—a Sob! reaches her ears._ _A woman’s voice. Sobbing, weeping._ _She looks about, trying to find the source—heart leaping into her throat at the notion that she is no longer alone. But she sees no one._

 _Still—the cries grow closer. Soft, filled with such sorrow that Eris can feel the weight of it. The voice...it sounds familiar. It sounds like her own._ _Then from the shadows, a card floats above the ground, making its way towards her, and she comes to understand that the object itself is the source of the weeping. Closer, closer, until she can see it is the tarot of The Hermit—and there is something so terribly familiar about the woman depicted upon its face. Garbed in layers, a staff in one hand, an orb in the other._

_She is so small, so woeful._

_The Hermit turns away from her, making its way along the path, towards the altar Eris had set her sights upon, and so she follows. Each stride in pace with the weeping woman, until from the corner of her eye, Eris detects movement. Another card slips from the shadows, coming to greet them._ _A man suspended upside down—The Hanged Man. He comes to hover before The Hermit, and like the woman in the card at Eris’ feet, there is something familiar about the man in the other. One eye brown, the other one blue, even in the dim glow, she can see it so plainly._

_The two cards move towards each other, coming together, lining up so perfectly that they become one, and she watches in awe as the card changes into that of The Lovers. The woman’s hand in the man’s own, their eyes looking deep within the others- and Eris realizes the woman has three within her head._

_The sobbing has ceased, silence falling once more, and the cards move away from her; continuing down the path._

**_Come._ **

_The whisper returns, and Eris obeys._

_Following The Lovers, she watches them carefully; pondering, wondering..._

_What is the meaning of it all?_

_Another card arises, creating a roadblock in front of them, and she recognizes the Two of Swords._ _Waiting with caution as the two cards face each other, she watches The Lovers attempt to move around the Swords, but it repositions itself to block them once more; refusing to grant passage. A stalemate._

_Uncertain at its purpose, Eris ponders what the next move will be, but as a minute passes and then another with no headway, she instead shifts her contemplation towards her own role in the matter. What must she do, if anything at all?_

**_Act._ **

_She stiffens for a second, the whisper offering her a new command, and within the haze of her confusion, she feels an instinctive drive moving her forward. It’s not that she doesn’t know what to do—it’s the question of WHY she must do it._ _So, she reaches out and plucks the Two of Swords out of the path, and is it dissolves to ash that slips between her fingers, The Lovers continue on their way.  
  
The altar is close. Her journey near complete, but alas, another obstacle made itself known. _ _From above, a new card descends to block the way once more: The Hierophant. And when her eyes focus upon its image, she feels a terrible sinking in her core._

 _A woman garbed in a hooded cloak, her feet suspended above the ground, arms limp at her sides with palms outturned—an open gesture of greeting. This Hierophant—this link between the cosmos and the terrestrial, she reminds Eris of a woman she once knew, who shone like the sun._ _She scoffed at her own dim-witted attempt to avoid the truth. To play ignorant in order to protect herself. She knew exactly whose visage graced that card._

_A Flutter! and a third card rose from the floor to hover beside The Hierophant: The Three of Swords. Quick, and without mercy, The Hierophant drew the blades into her own surface and sliced The Lovers in two. A sickening tear, followed by shouts of fear and Eris’ eyes widened as the man and woman returned to their original forms; taking up as The Hanged Man and The Hermit once again._

_A breeze rushed in, and The Hierophant and The Hanged Man were swept away; disappearing into the shadows. Leaving The Hermit alone._

_Stunned silence, and then...sobbing, weeping. The woman began to cry, and Eris choked back her own phantom tears. This pain, this...loneliness. She feels such compassion for the card at her feet, for she knows all too well how much it wounds the heart and kills the soul._

_Slower than before, The Hermit presses on. The confidence it seemed to have carried when her lover had been at her side had been whisked away. Such a terrible weight to carry all alone, and Eris tried to stay as close as she could; providing some semblance of comfort.  
  
It’s alright. It’s going to be alright. _

_A Snap! and Eris gasps, yet again a card rises to meet them. Coming to float before her face—aggressive, challenging! She flinches back, eyes moving over the face of the card as terror begins to rise inside of her._

_This...thing before her, it was grotesque! Twisted and devilish to the point where the very sight of it caused an aversion so profound that Eris felt naught but loathing._

_The Magician._

_She could smell something rancid radiating from the card as it hovered before her face. A putrid stench of death, laced with that spicy and sweet scent of magic. Wafting together to create something wholly repugnant!  
  
Ugh! She couldn’t stand it, and she brought her hand to her face to cover her nose and mouth._

_There was a relentlessness about The Magician, for the more Eris leaned away, the more it pressed upon her, and its threat was clear. This card...it hated her!_

_And Eris hated it in return._

_She wished to strike it! To swat it from the air like a fly! But before she could put her desire into action, The Hermit flew to meet The Magician, and the two cards began to flutter about. Twisting away from Eris, she watched as they circled one another, spinning faster and faster, like two birds fighting in the sky._

_Round and round they twist, until The Hermit brings about the end—her staff thrusts true, and impales The Magician. Their flight halting, suspended in the air as a piercing Shriek! rocks the very cavern itself, and Eris slams her hands upon her ears once more. She hunches forward, squeezing her eyes shut against the pain that wracks her entire form. The sound is too strong, and for a moment, she fears she may be sick._

_Hands shake against the side of her head, her teeth chatter, and she begs silently for release!_

_Stop! Just stop!_

_And it does._

_Silence._

_She opens her eyes just in time to see The Magician spill to the floor in pile of ash. It is done. The Hermit has claimed victory, and with this enemy crushed beneath her, she continues on. Eris spares the remains of the enemy one last glance before she follows her small companion._ _Several meters to the altar. The Hermit no longer weeping in pity for herself, and as they reach their final destination, Eris comes to realize that this dark mass she had thought was an altar, was in fact a mass of obsidian carved into throne._

**_Come._ **

_It was speaking to her, asking her to offer respects—_

_Telling her to sit._

_She does not respond, and as she stands in contemplation, The Hermit begins to dissolve before her eyes, until it too is nothing more than a pile of ash. Wasted. Unneeded._

**_Come. Look._ **

_The whisper encourages once more, and on tentative steps, Eris moves forward to see that which the voice indicated._

_Upon the throne, lay two cards—_

_The Emperor._

_The Card of Judgement._

_A powerful figure sits upon a throne, while the emaciated bodies of its subjects are piled to be a foot rest. The Emperor had no face. Where one should be, there were scratches that tore the surface of the card. A malicious attack, leaving the figure essentially headless._

_Upon the card of Judgement, was a simple Orb. White, shining and beautiful as it floated in an open sky, the silhouette of a city beneath it, and it was this image that caused a flutter in Eris’ heart. She was gazing upon stark opposites. Ugliness and beauty, terror and benevolence._

**_Choose._ **

_She jumps, brows furrowing as she continues to examine what is being presented. She had to choose one? But why? This riddle was eluding her, an enigma that she had not enough data to answer intelligently. What did they signify, and if she chose the wrong one, what would happen? Was there a wrong choice?_

_The longer she looked upon them, the more unease began to rise within her soul._

_The flash of a breeze passes her, teasing at her hair, and with it comes the scent of something familiar—something she had come to apprize in time. That smell of earth after it rains and campfires on a mountaintop._ _She feels a new presence in the room, coming behind her; walking the same path she had tread._ _There is no fear to be felt in this moment._

_“If you kneel before it...do you think it will tell you the truth?”_

_She knows that voice. HIS voice. She does not need to turn—does not need to see him to know._

_“Do you think me subservient?” She asks in return, and she ponders his words carefully._

_A chuckle, “Not at all.”_

_There is no irony in his tone._

_Why is he here? Why has he come?_

_So many questions...so many mysteries, and no matter how hard she searches, how hard she pushes the very boundaries of ethical practice—Eris has come no closer to obtaining what she desires._

_She never breaks her gaze from the cards upon the throne. Patiently they wait for her decisiveness to break free of its chain. It all seemed so simple...Yes? True? But it was the hardest undertaking she had ever endured._

_“So, which will you choose?”_

_She startles as she feels his breath upon her, whispering against her ear. He had moved so silently, so quickly! Standing so close, she could feel his chest against her—and that smell! Magic so strong it was overpowering!_

_She tenses, standing between two sources of disquiet. Her mind unable to produce an answer—and so, she responds with a question in turn:  
  
“Which would you choose?”_

_There is no challenge in her tone, simply a genuine curiosity born form her own inability to bring about closure._

_Another chuckle, and she feels his face lean across her shoulder to catch a better glimpse at the cards in question. She swallows, heart rate increasing._

_“Neither,” He admits._

_Then she gasps, as a tremor begins at the top of her head and spills into her feet. His callused fingers brushing her hair aside; exposing her neck and shoulder._

_“I would simply turn around—”_

_Her breath shudders, as he brings his face to press gently into the nape of her neck._

_“And walk away.” He whispers, lips moving against her skin—the caress of his beard, the heat of his breath! His skin upon her own causing every nerve to stand on end—he’s warm! So very warm!_

_She cannot move...cannot think!_

_And it’s made all the worse when he brings his hands to hold her arms, caressing them in a motion of comfort. It’s just enough to push her closer to the edge, and she fights so hard not to reach for him—to make him stay exactly where he is. To press him further to her._

_But oh—how distracting he’d become!_

_In fact...was that the scheme?_

_“You make it sound so simple.” She whispers on quaking breath, and she can feel his teeth smile against her._

_“Oh, it is.” He assures,, “You’re the one who’s making it complicated.”_

_There is truth in what he says. She cannot deny the inner turmoil that had played catalyst to so much adversity in her life._

_But...how? How does one simply... drift as he does? Such indifference. She was beginning to envy that aspect of him. Alas, Eris Morn was not so free._

_Her eyes widen when she feels him press against her. Heart stopping, breath caught in her throat—_

_“Moondust...”_

_She’s frozen. Utterly petrified, as his hands leave her arms, sliding down to wrap about her waist. She can feel his fire again. Even in this darkness, his light was still burning—_

_Her heart begins again, hammering against her ribs now, as she feels his fingers tease at the front of her robe. Slowly playing with the knot that held it closed. A soft and playful gesture that promised something—_

_“You do whatever you want to do.”_

_\--but only if she wanted it._

_Her breath finally escaping, a gasp, a convulsion. His lips finding that place where her shoulder met her neck, that special, intimate spot..._

_“Never forget,” He bestows a kiss so light, “To just be Eris Morn.”_

_And that was the end for her—_

_Her arm shoots up, reaching back to grasp his hair and pull him as close as she possibly can. Encouraging, begging him to hold her tight, and he did not deny her. Wrapped in his arms, his lips moving across her neck, and she tilts her head in silent consent, giving him more to indulge. He accepts her offer and oh—how Eris was burning!_

_A sky made of stone, filled with jewels that mimicked the stars._

_This place...with him here, it was not so ominous after all. In fact, there was beauty in the savagery! Just like him._

_On pivoting heel, she turns to face him, still clutched in his arms with her fingers gripping his hair all the tighter. He hisses, and offers a lazy smile, as they breath against each other. Eyes locked and filled with something carnal—she has never felt this way before._

_And oh—no one had ever looked at her the way he did now!_

_She notices something. There is no bandana wrapped about his head, and he wears the same robe as she. This reality, it comes to her quickly, for she understands what is being suggested in this moment. They are templates. Blank slates. The next arc of their stories not yet written, and so they stand together; so plain._

_Noses touching, lips a hair apart...both of them shuddering. This promise between them, an unspoken, unnamed something that had finally broken free. She welcomed it._

_Goddamn, how she welcomed it!_

_Yes. Eris Morn finally knew what she wanted, and now, she had made her decision._

_The throne that stood behind her, waiting for her choice. She knew what would happen now. For when she steps back, and takes her rightful seat...this man who stands before her will fall to his knees and worship her._

_And it will be most exquisite!_

Eris’ eyes fly open, wide awake with pounding heart—

_What happened?! Where am I?!_

Fear and confusion, as her sight fills with an image she can’t quite make out. An expanse of blue...peppered in green and swirling with the wisps of white...  
  
 _What am I looking at?_  
  
She stills for a moment...her brain slowly processing....

 _Oh...OH SHIT!!  
  
_ Earth! She’s looking down at the Earth! And it’s then she realizes, that she is suspended almost completely horizontally—parallel with the planet below her!  
  
She is floating above the atmosphere, about to fall to her death!

But...but—she wasn’t moving. She was still alive and immobile!  
  
 _WHY?! HOW?!_

Mind racing, heart hammering in her chest as panicked breaths defied the reality that she should be without oxygen—and it’s then that her eyes catch sight of metal a foot beneath her feet...  
  
The steel of some great object—

 _Wait...THE DERELICT!_  
  
Yes! She was suspended over the edge of the bay door! In the hangar of The Drifter’s ship!

_Oh my God! Oh my God! How did this happen?!_

Panic takes her completely and she begins to flail, desperately trying to pull herself back, but something strong and powerful held her in place. Her hands reaching out, clutching desperately at air—she didn’t know what to do! She couldn’t move! Then a _Squawk!_ followed by a desperate _Chitter!_ reached her ears, and Eris froze.

Gasping for breath, every inch of her trembling, she feels something yank back on her— _hard!_ And with a mighty pull, she flies back, landing upon her backside with a graceless _Thump!_

The cold metal of the dock supports her form, and she is safe once more within the confines of the ship. A moment passes as she fights to calm herself, to still the shaking and the palpitations in her chest.

_What just happened?! Did I...did I do it again?!_

That loss of time, of memory...waking up in random places...

_Oh no...please, no! Not again!_

She raises a shaking hand to her chest, pressing down in a gesture of self-comfort; an attempt to still her rapidly beating heart. The feeling of simple cotton beneath her fingers pulls her attention away—distracting her from the distress swirling inside her.  
  
Cotton...plain...simple...smelling of earthy soap and magic.  
  
Her eyes moved down to take in the fabric, a black shirt too big for her, and gazing even lower to find cargo pants that engulfed her too skinny legs. These clothes.. _.his_ clothes.Yes...she remembered. He had loaned them to her...she had fallen asleep in them...

The Drifter.

That night...she remembered. She had come to him, seeking comfort and distraction. He had provided it.

But now—

Confusion so profound she quaked with it!

_Why is this happening?_

A _Chirp!_ broke through her thoughts, and Eris snapped her head up to find a red eye gazing down at her.

_Chim-Ung?_

The little Ghost was shaking just as badly as she. His eye roaming over her with a spastic motion, filled with concern and frankly, near panic. A gesture that was strangely so very human, and Eris could only look back with pleading eyes; hoping the Ghost would explain, clarify.

“Chim-Ung?” She panted, “What...what—did I just...”

She wasn’t sure what to say. What to ask.

“Did I just...try to walk out of the hangar?” A direct question was best in this matter, and she watched as he nodded his shell rapidly; disbelief and fear still lingering.

Oh...oh...that’s right...Chim-Ung had laid himself upon her head when she had drifted into slumber. When she began to engage in somnambulism, she had certainly disturbed him and he must have followed after her in confusion.  
  
Thank all that was holy he had, for it had been him that saved her. Her mental faculties returning, logical processing beginning to recapitulate the situation—he had used his light to stop her. That beam of light all the Ghosts seemed to find multiple uses for...he had snatched her back at the beginnings of a freefall.

Guilt fell upon her. That sensation of being a burden to the bystanders whose paths she crossed returned with a vengeance. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair!  
  
“Oh, Chim-Ung, “ She began, a tremor in her voice, “I’m so terribly sorry!”  
  
At her apology, the Ghost swooped closer, shaking his shell and _Twittering!_ in a gesture of what she took for reassurance; trying to make it known that she certainly had nothing to apologize for. Still, it did not change the fact that she had potentially placed a great deal of stress upon him.

She felt that heat behind her eyes again, the threat of phantom tears, and she brought her hands to her lap, clutching the fabric of her shirt tightly. Trying to quell the tremors, trying to bring sensibility back into her head.

_If he hadn’t been here..._

What could she possibly say in this moment?

A lump was forming in her throat, and she swallowed it down before squeaking out, “Thank you.”

Pitiful. Weak. She was vulnerable before him, and it was a painful realization that a simple _thank you_ was not enough. Not to her at least. A shudder passed through her, but it wasn’t simply born from emotion. No, the cold had struck, and she pulled her knees to her chest; wrapping her arms to hug them as closely as she could. The hangar was cold as ice, and she manipulated the cuffs of the pants to slide over her feet; curling her toes beneath the fabric. Without the light...it had become so hard to stay warm. Long ago, when she had been young, she had taken the benefits of the light for granted. That calm, warm sensation it had provided, burning inside one’s chest. Deep inside the belly. There was nothing else that could possibly compare.  
  
And now that it was gone.  
  
Chim-Ung silenced her thoughts as he came to hover before her. A beam of light emerging from his eye to quickly scan her form, and Eris couldn’t help the contrite smile that curled upon her lip.The little Ghost was inspecting her. Trying to be sure that she was indeed alright, and it was touching to say the least.

“I believe I’m alright, now.” She assured him, “I...I’ve done this before...”  
  
Why was she telling him this? But Eris couldn’t hold back, something inside her ached to share this secret of hers. Yes, Chim-Ung was someone she could confide in, and her eyes locked upon his own, trying to silently convey the fear and the pain that was festering inside her.

The Ghost didn’t look away. He watched and he listened.

“I’ve done it many times before.” She chewed her lip, “And I haven’t the faintest idea as to why.”

That was the most she could share with him. Anything more, and she was terrified she would break completely upon the floor of the docking bay. It was all too much. First the dream upon Luna, then her nervous collapse before The Drifter, then that...second dream, and now—

What was happening to her?

She removed her gaze from Chim-Ung’s in an attempt to hide herself. A way of reestablishing some semblance of control, as she hid her face within her knees. Rebreathing into the fabric—inhale, exhale. The scent of soap and sawdust. Even upon her, his clothes retained his scent.

She counted her knuckles—

Counted her fingers—

Counted her toes—

_1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10—_

This grounding technique she had used for so long was beginning to fail her. The sickening feeling of anxiety was still lingering within her gut, and the prickling of icy fear was in the back of her mind.

_Too much...too much..._

In twenty-four hours, it felt as though she had emotionally suffered a hundred lifetimes. She would have to find something new. Some resource—some avenue she could adopt to keep her mind focused and her body still.

_But where do I go for that?_

_“Eris, please...” Zavala had gazed upon her with such pleading eyes, “Speak to someone. We can find you a doctor—”_

She flinched at the memory of how she had snapped at the Titan. Cutting him off as she flew into a rant on how it was no one’s business but her own. She had been cruel, unfair—her friend had simply been worried for her. But she hadn’t cared, and had stormed out of his office.

That had been so long ago, and Zavala had never mentioned it again. Ikora on the other hand...

Eris took a deep breath, and released it slowly. Perhaps...perhaps she should consider her sister’s advice, but there was something inside her that churned and boiled at the thought of someone trying to coach her through trauma when they had absolutely no idea what she had been through.  
  
 _How could they possibly understand?! They don’t know! No one knows!_  
  
But that simply wasn’t true...

Asher knew. He knew how she felt. The humiliation, the guilt, the sense of failure and loss of identity. He understood these things.  
  
And then—there was _him._

The Drifter knew the pain of great loss. He knew what it felt like to be alone. A loneliness so profound that you longed for the mercy of death. The feeling of being unwanted, forgotten, feared and hated. He knew the horrors of the dark, and what true fear was. He understood those things.

_Yes. That is the truth._

Even though she sometimes forgot—the truth was, she was not alone in the universe.

The gentle brush of something upon her hair, and she glanced up to see Chim-Ung nudging at her, bringing his eye in line with her third. There was an intensity in his stare, a desperation that Eris could plainly feel. There was something he wanted to tell her, something he wished for her to know—but his voice had been taken away so long ago. She could see the slight tremble in his shell, the pitiful flicker of his iris, and her heart sank. How painful it must be to not have a voice!

Yes, Eris’ eyes had been ripped away, thrusting her into darkness, and she had lived a long time believing she would never again see the blue of the sky, or the green of the trees. She would never again see the faces of her people. No light. No color. Just...nothing. But, Eris had kept her tongue and the ability to speak her thoughts, and that had been a comfort in her most distressing times.

She had spoken to herself. Sung to herself—that song that Eriana had loved, and she had hated. Her own voice is what kept her sane...had kept her company.

She couldn’t possibly imagine what manner of loneliness Chim-Ung must feel. She wished she could cry for him.

A tiny _chirp_ , and his shell drooped in defeat, leaving Eris feeling equally as dejected.

_Poor thing. It’s so unfair._

“It’s alright, my little friend,” She offered him a gentle smile, “I understand.”

She knew he merely meant to comfort her, and she wanted to assure him that it was alright, that she didn’t need his voice to understand him. She could feel his kindness, and actions had spoken much louder than words.

He had stayed with her, followed her, and saved her life.

What more needed to be said?

And perhaps, within Eris’ words, the Ghost himself came to an epiphany. For he glanced back to her with a slight spring in his shell, and Eris could sense that his mood had elevated somewhat.

Coming forward, he brought the screen that housed his eye to her cheek, and with a gentle press filled with the warmth of his own light, he gave her a kiss—as much as a Ghost _could_ without possessing a face. But, Eris had understood the gesture, and she bowed her head as heat rose to her cheeks. Such an expression of pure love and care, innocent and without expectation...what could she possibly say in return?!  
  
Poor, broken, wonderful Chim-Ung. How she had come to see him as a true friend. They watched each other a little longer, silence screaming between them.

And then—

Reality came to dash away her serenity.

“I really should depart for home.” She whispered, “It would be best if I take my leave now.”

Her welcome had most certainly been overstayed.

The Ghost watched her, apprehension clearly evident as his eye roamed over her; unsure if she were fit to make the journey.

“I will be fine,” She assured him, “I truly must get back, for there are things that cannot be left unattended.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t entirely accurate. There was no emergency that would arise in her absence, but it didn’t change the fact that time was crucial in her ongoing mission.

And she had wasted too much of it already.

A thought struck her, “Please, do not let the Rat know about any of this.”

Honestly, the thought was rather an asinine one, as Chim-Ung was a mute, and yet, Eris had witnessed on more than one occasion how the man and his Ghost seemed to communicate without verbally addressing the other. It was a terrifying sight sometimes, as though the two of them were operating on an entirely different plane of existence. Possessing abilities only they could harness.

A second passed, and Chim-Ung nodded. She could sense he didn’t entirely agree with her argument for departure, but he would not stop her, and then—he shone a beam of light at her feet, and she watched as her clothes materialized. Cleaned and folded.

She froze, her mind taking note of what this insinuated—

Had...had Chim-Ung possessed her clothes the entire time? Had The Drifter and his Ghost been holding them hostage in order to keep her onboard the ship?

It was a theory. A mere speculation, but still...there was something to it. They had known she was in no condition to leave, but her stubborn nature would have argued back, and she would have certainly returned to Luna—shaken, unstable, and susceptible to an attack of sheer madness. Heaven only knew what she might have done to herself in that state.

Once again, she felt the heaviness of something form in her throat, and she squeezed her lips together.

“Thank you.” She nodded her gratitude, but the Ghost had quickly dematerialized before her statement was complete.

She blinked, startled at his sudden departure, and she worried for a moment that she had possibly upset him.

A shiver down her spine as she felt the rush of the cold return, and she took up her clothes before rising on trembling legs. She would change here. Her clothes were warm enough, and she would leave The Drifter’s own behind.

Yes, there was no one to see her in the hangar— _BUT..._ just to be sure the Rat hadn’t stirred form his slumber and came to find her in the hangar, she had to be sure he wasn’t sneaking a peek...so she glanced about.

No one. Nothing.  
  
 _Oh please, give him more credit._

She chastised herself.  
  
 _So far, that is one thing he’s been a perfect gentleman about._  
  
True. He had respected her boundaries of modesty, and for that, she had been grateful and secretly impressed. But then...but then...

Her mind wandered. To her dream. The one most recent. Where she stood inside a cave at the foot of a whispering throne, and had fallen weak in his arms—

Her face flushed at the mere memory of it. How could she be so crude?! To imagine him in such a way?! It was indecent, and shame filled her when she realized that this hadn’t been the first time.

_Stop it!_

She took a deep breath, quelling any further thoughts on the issue. It was a dream, and nothing more. She would keep it secret, and save herself from embarrassment, while she spared him the disrespect.

No more on the subject. End it now.

She obeyed the command, and quickly swapped The Drifter’s clothes for her own, being sure to fold them carefully before making her way to a stack of crates he kept near the maintenance station. Her feet nearly burned upon the cold floor, sending a terrible tremor through her body, and she walked with an awkward gait chastising herself all the while for leaving her home without shoes.

_This will never happen again._

It was a promise, but also a threat. Sometimes, she felt she needed to put some fear into herself in order to maintain discipline, and so far, it had served her well.

Laying his clothes upon the lid of a crate, she took a moment to pull her cloak a little tighter, wrapping it about her shoulders—then jumped when Chim-Ung suddenly reappeared beside her.  
  
“Chim-Ung,” She blurted out, trying to stifle the nervous tremor that had risen in her voice, “I thought you—”

She stopped when she spotted what he held.

Within his beam, her holstered blade was suspended—as too was her pouch, and at the sight of it, at the knowledge of what lay within, she felt the blood drain from her face. The source of her ire, the monster she could not escape. It would have to leave with her. Eris paused, listening carefully—seeking out a whisper. But it was silent.

_Good._

Let it stay that way.

“Thank you, my little friend.” She reached out to take her belongings, offering the Ghost a small smile. A deep breath, a squaring of her shoulders, and Eris righted herself. The process of regaining control—at least, she hoped it appeared that way. For truth be told, she was not as calm as she seemed.

_It shall pass. It always passes for a time._

Another mantra she had repeated to herself many times in the past, and in this moment, she had never needed it more.

“I will see you again soon. Take care of yourself, and don’t let _him_ do anything completely foolish.”

A low _Hum!_ and Eris took it for a grumble and an eye roll. Indeed, she had asked too much of him, and the smallest chuckle passed her lips.

“Good day.”

And with that, she made her way back towards her ship. Legs weak, but fulfilling their purpose.

She would not sleep upon her return—she had slept enough, and whatever the day lay in store for her, she would welcome with open arms. No matter how tedious or unnerving they would be.

As long as she didn’t have to dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s how the cards are read in the context of this story:
> 
> The Tower represents an upheaval and impending disaster.  
> The Wheel of Fortune spins consistently to indicate an inevitable fate.  
> The Death Card indicates a massive change, whether good or bad, that breaks the notion of inescapable destiny.  
> The Hermit is Eris, and represents the loneliness and isolation she has embraced.  
> The Hanged Man is The Drifter, and is indicative of an enlightened mind that is caught-up in actions of both selfishness and sacrifice.  
> The Lovers are the union of two souls forming a partnership based on a common goal—however, one person cannot walk two paths.  
> The Two Of Swords represents caution, that facts must be checked before action is taken.  
> The Hierophant is Orin and represents the mouthpiece of a higher power that cannot be defied.  
> The Three of Swords represents a separation and division, cutting The Lovers apart as their means to an end do not coincide.  
> The Magician is Savathuan and indicates great trickery and deception is at play.  
> The Emperor is an embodiment of authority and possible tyranny.  
> The Card of Judgement reminds that it’s better to let go of the past and simply walk away. Begin anew.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to see the tie-in stories of The Drifter's life with Orin in the Dark Ages, you can read them in "The Story of Her." Another ongoing collection.
> 
> Some of the things mentioned in this story, will be fully fleshed out there.
> 
> Let me know if you want to see more, you can even suggest a card game for them to play.


End file.
